


Light At The End Of The Tunnel

by TheGentlemanLivingInTheShadows



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 07:24:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2643200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGentlemanLivingInTheShadows/pseuds/TheGentlemanLivingInTheShadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike needs the money, he's living alone for the first time in an apartment and he can't keep down a job. He hates himself for it and his past still haunts him. But maybe there is light at the end of the tunnel? ((Cliché summary is cliché. First ever story, so be nice to me and please review so that I can get better at writing)).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Uno

A gentle whispered breeze twirled through the black and white tiled room, fluttering the ruffled yellowed curtains that hung in front of slightly ajar windows and spreading a rich nutty scent of freshly brewed coffee around the small box like kitchen. Soft lightly tanned hands cradled around a warm porcelain black mug, covering the famous blue intricate maze from the Pac Man arcade game. One single plate rested against the crumb covered and cracked cheap wooden table, untouched with two slices of plain slightly burnt toast. A few inches away on the table top that really had seen better days was several opened newspapers, each printed with a different name, and listing the jobs that were available that day in small bold letters. Ebony inked circles dotted around each page meanwhile others had huge wobbly crimson lines etched through them, the crosses seemingly scratched into the thin paper deeper than any other of the lines counter parts.  

Mike released a soft tumbling sigh from his warm peach lips as he rubbed the lightly tanned skin just above his furrowed brow, his emerald orbs half open and glazed over from lack of sleep. He needed a job; he ** _knew_** that and he needed one **_now._** He couldn’t go on like this, being kept awake all night endlessly biting his short chipped nails in worry about his empty wallet that just seemed to be eating his cash quicker than it could come in. He shot an intense heated glare with his bright emerald orbs at the unexpected pile of dull brown envelopes that sat innocently by his side, the bold scarlet stamps spelling out the words ‘final notice’ in dreaded font mocked him.    

It was easier when he was a child (even though he was still considered young, he was not, in fact, a child), he didn’t have to worry about the bills- or a mortgage. The fridge was always full for him and his sister, the power nor had heating ever to be cut off. His only biggest concern while growing up was his grades, his hair style and his popularity with the ladies. Often enough turning a deaf ear to all of those insufferable idiotic adults who berated him about them being the best years of his life, the fact that he had it easy for him and he dismissed them as terribly overused lies slurred by adults to get children to be a little more manageable- like Santa. However look at how the tide had changed; his warm comfortable home swapped to a small damp studio apartment (he was fairly certain that he even heard the little scuttling noises of rats behind the kitchens grotty scratched cabinets), his flashy brand named clothes switched to hastily bought cheap charity shop second (or third) hands, being reduced to being so skint that he couldn’t even afford butter on his toast and his family-

Mike shook his head roughly, his greasy chocolate brown curls fanning out in every direction, making the oily strands to occasionally to whip him in his slim tanned face and making him vaguely look like an eccentric evil scientist out of one of the novels that he had, at one point, enjoyed reading. At the remembrance of his family caused his ever covered back to twinge vehemently and for transparent tears to prick the corners of his eyes. **No** , he was not going there, not now nor ever, **_repress it Ra dammit._**        

An obnoxious sharp ring of the breaking doorbell cut through the thick self-loathing air like a hot knife through butter and snapped him out of his agonized thoughts. Stiffly on achingly tired legs, Mike stood up from the hard wooden chipped chair and padded through the baby blue stained thread bear carpet with his zombie head slippers, the bloody disfigured mouths of the monsters wrapped around his feet. By the obnoxiously huge silhouette that had been placed in front of his front door it could only be one person; his dreaded landlord.

With a small flick of his lightly tanned wrist the sloppily painted door cracked open with a cringe worthy _screech_ that rattled the board of chipping wood on its rusty hinges. It revealed the fat, sweaty balding man into full view and Mike regarded him with a careful blank look- his poker face.

“Mr Finch,” The curly brunette greeted rigidly, a curt nod in its wake, “What can I do for you?”

The man panted like a dog, his red chubby cheeks puffing with each breathe that he took, beads of sweat circling his bulbous face and thick neck. **_Must be from the climb up the stairs_** , the young brunette thought scathingly, and he resisted the urge to snort at the offensive thought.

Mr Finch straightened his short bulbous body, a snowy hanky caught in a white knuckled grip in his meaty fist, using the soft material to wipe at the salty liquid that had collected on the unhealthy mans wrinkled brow.

“I’m here for the rent,” at those words Mike felt himself go rigid and felt all the blood in his face drain away from his face down to his shoes, like water into a gutter. From the corner of his emerald orbs he could spot the small pile green notes and odd bit of bronze change that he had managed to scrape hastily from his last effort at working; he was fired, obviously **_however it was not his fault._**

His last failed job attempt caused him to be fired about three days he had started officially, it was at a small nine- teen eighties American themed road side diner a couple of miles from his apartment and it had gone **smashingly** to say the least. He waited tables, and refilled coffee cups that needed a top up, however on the third day, it happened. It was a sunny afternoon on a Wednesday when he served a loving elderly couple in a both next to the front entrance. Mike had spun around to take away the couples uneaten food with a smile (he was a less cynical bastard when he didn’t have the weight of bills and stress on his shoulders) and was just in time for a child no older than eight to dart between his legs to dash off behind him. The young brunette had lifted his emerald green eyes to meet the shocked electric blue ones of a ten year old boy before he had been knocked flat off his feet.

It had caused a domino effect.

The circular plastic grey tray he used to carry orders slipped out of his hands and came crashing into the path of another waitress who happened to walk by, causing her to stumble. She flung plates of freshly made **HOT** food and drink at the old love birds. By the time they had been calmed down, the children were long gone which caused him to be on the end of several pointing fingers. He was sacked on the spot.    

Mr Finch raked his brown orbs over the brunette and Mike let him, letting the man to scan his mad scientist’s greasy hair to his black bagged eye lids to his sweat stained dishevelled clothes. The harsh glint that Mr Finch’s eyes possessed softened as he looked at the young American.

       

“Listen,” he stated hesitantly.

“No,” Mr Finch huffed, “You are already late with the rent, I have to constantly mail you reminders and-“. He stopped short for a pregnant pause, the only noise filling the void of silence was his wheezy breathing.

“But I was a struggling college drop out too once, and I will give you until Friday to give me a hundred dollars” The balding man finally finished before hobbling back down the two sets of stairs, giving Mike the perfect view of his creased sweat stained back.

Mike stared at the figures retreat long after it was gone, and sucked air through his teeth. He……He was given another chance? Blinking slowly, he returned to the wooden unsteady table to pour over the numerous open newspapers, a couple caught his eye.

**HELP WANTED**

**Chef needed.**

**5am to 12pm**

**$ 250 a week**

**To apply call: ************

Mike whistled lowly once he saw the mount his pay check would be worth, but he quickly shook his head, he was hardly a chef; he could barely make toast and that was always burnt into charcoal. A quick glance at the plate proved himself right and he clicked his tongue against his teeth. Maybe not then.

Another one grasped his attention and he quickly scanned through the text.

 

**Waiter/Waitress needed**

**Must been eighteen years old with twenty years of experience.**

**Number to call: ************

A snort made its way out of the brunette’s nose when he immediately saw the advertisements ridiculous blunder. Was that honestly serious?

He moved on, flicking a few crinkled thin pages of paper before settling on one decent enough to read. It had a picture of an animatronic bear, and it was a little creepy considering that it was for the purpose of entertaining small children, however Mike disregarded it for what it said in the text:

**HELP WANTED**

**Freddy Fazbears Pizza**

**Security night watch.**

**12am to 6am**

**Not responsible for ******* / *********

********* ******** *******

**$120 a week**

**To apply call *************

Mike grinned triumphantly and felt his excitement grow, maybe this could be his day, and the time were he turns his whole life around! First the second chance for extra time to pay the bills and now the perfect job had stumbled on his lap! It was a miracle!

….Or was it?


	2. Dos

The distasteful stench of grease, fat and heavy laced floral air freshener slapped Mike in the face as he spun through the finger marked glass door in a soaked frenzy to get himself into a warmer drier environment. Screams and squeals of children echoed through the room, bouncing off the colourful glittery decorated walls and sliding into his ears. Lively upbeat music played, just a notch louder than the near hysterical excited shrieks, which were overall overshadowed by the loud almost robotic sounding singing that jumped and glitched continuously. Mike’s left emerald eye twitched, the confusing cacophony was loud, almost unbearably- how was this a miracle again?

He used his red tinted frozen hands to scoop up the sodden woollen mess that sat on top his drenched tangled curls that hung wetly in front of his emerald eyes, and sent a heated glare at the jade coloured beanie that rested in his cold scrunched up hands that to him, resembled more of awkward bear claws then the hands of a human being. His usually baggy clothes (the most presentable that he could scavenge at the back of the closet in a crumpled pile, full of ugly wrinkles and creases that he just shrugged off fleetingly in the haste of getting ready) clung unpleasantly to his sopping wet flesh, making his back twinge in throbbing agony. A scowl twisted up at the ends of his thin lips and his shook his matted chocolate curls roughly like a dog, ignoring the glares of the single mothers shot him, their arms already full while trying to tend to their squealing infants that just about screamed ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’. He sent them a heated irritated glare of his own as he felt the creeping soaking coldness sneak into his boxers…..    

“How can I help you?”

The deep baritone voice was calm, light and even teasing- it was almost pleasant to listen too, despite the soaked shivering mess that he had been reduced to on the walk over. Mike snapped his head up jerkily and swept his emerald green eyes up to meet the owner of the voice. He was confronted with the figure of a tall pale man with floppy ebony hair that fell in front of his slim face in a long side fringe. Bright blue jewels burned into his own with a mischievous glint and a single trimmed ebony eye brow that was raised slightly- cockily.    

Mike narrowed his emerald green eyes, he was: soaked, stressed, tired, and the flesh on his back felt like it was being torn from his bones ( ** _again_** ) - he was not in the mood for a pompous cocky asshole. Begrudgingly, the soaked brunette dug around his flooded pockets with his freaking frozen bear claws, mumbling curses to himself as his red digits wrapped themselves around water logged paper.

“I’m here for the night security guard job,” The brunette held up the piece of thin soggy paper, the folding’s stuck together and the text blurred.  

The dark haired males face paled (which was a quite impressive feat, considering the man’s lack of colour complexion), the twisting smirk vanished and his bright blue eyes dulled to lose the mischievous glint they once held. He made a small sound at the back of his throat, somewhere between a sad whimper and a high pitched squeak before mutely motioning Mike to follow his lead further into the restaurant. Mike raised a thin chocolate eyebrow at the tall man’s retreating back, what the hell was wrong with him? He only wanted a job, it wasn’t like he was going to be stepping on his toes! With a roll of his bright green eyes the curly haired man pocketed his wet headwear and followed him past the ocean of screaming terrors that terrorized the place by the day- the thought of the creatures that terrorized the restaurant in the night far from his (slightly damp) mind.


	3. Tres

** Freddy Fazbears Rules! **

**◾Don't run**

**◾Don't yell**

**◾Don't scream**

**◾Don't poop on the floor**

**◾Stay close to Mom**

**◾Don't touch Freddy**

**◾Don't hit**

**◾Leave before dark**

Mike snorted a laugh through his nose when he saw the poster, they (him and TDH; tall, dark and handsome as the cocky asshole had been fondly nicknamed) were striding through the eastern corridor silently, the robotic glitching music and echoed footfalls washing over them in the brightly lit hallway. Really? Those were the official rules of the place? It made him snort again. The first three rules he could understand, however; don’t poop on the floor? It obviously became such a problem that they had put it in the rules. The other ones were justifiable enough though, ‘don’t touch Freddy’ in case the little rascals broke the machinery with their curious fingers and ‘stay close to Mom’ because there were always some alone creeper that lurked about, which also cleared up the last rule. His dark haired acquaintance’s bright blue eyes flickered to what he had found funny and the corner of his pale lips twitched, however the dull quality to his eyes remained unchanged. The curly brunette frowned at that, and pulled at his thin bottom lip with his teeth. What was his problem? He hadn’t even cursed at him yet….. Out loud at least. However before he could ask he was distracted by the shiny glittery decorative stars that hung from the ceiling by wires. They spun slightly, making small dots of light to reflect off them and twirl around the walls.

Surprisingly, Mike was quite impressed with the building, he had heard that the business was going under and was receiving less visitors for parties. Albeit, the building was a little old, the paint peeling, tiles chipped and the _smell_. However as Mike found out during his later years in a dank apartment, a new paint job could do wonders and the distasteful smell was most likely from the fatty pizzas that they sold- or the little kiddies that were running around. It wasn’t like they kept the smell like that on purpose. Besides, the building proved to be a lot warmer- and drier- than his currant living space. And despite being soaked through and his hands becoming the most awkward tools in humanity, he felt less stressed with his silent companion at his side. He had an almost supernatural power of calming him, furthermore his back didn’t seem to be complaining anymore either- it had stopped twinging right about after he had met him.  

Finally the twinkling hallway stopped, as did their echoed footsteps, and Mike was given the view of a tiny office that décor matched most of the rest of the building. It had the same black and white tiled flooring, the same chipped paint and the same creepy posters that encouraged the children to have fun. Further near the opposite side of him was another door, parallel to the one he was standing in. It was odd, why did the office need two doors to access it? The design of the building was quirky he had to admit.

An elderly women was inside, perched on a tiny office chair in the middle of the room that rolled and spun around in the circles you would do in a childish moment of boredom, clacking away at an old keyboard that was wired up to a fat computer system on the long grey table. She was pretty, he supposed as his tilted his curly head in silent consideration. Her frizzy brown hair was slowly swaying due to the air of the steadily humming fan that was in front of her (it was quite concerning how loud it was, probably quite an annoyance after a few hours), her makeup was applied subtly and even though he wasn’t at the right angle he could clearly see that her face held a look of professionalism.

A knock on the door frame above him snapped him out of his rude moment of staring, TDH probably got tired of waiting for him to stop ogling at the elderly women in front of him and introduce himself on his own. The knock made the random clacks at the computer stop and the women was now standing up, her slightly creased face lit up with welcome and curiosity.

“Ma’am,” The tall male cleared his throat as he addressed her, “This gentleman has come about the security job”.

At the words, the woman’s face seem to light up even more,” Well isn’t that fantastic! Welcome Mr-“.

“Mr Schmidt. Mike Schmi-“. He was cut off by the smiling women.

“Ah yes! Nice to meet you! I’m the owner of Freddy Fazbears Pizza, you may call me Mrs Fazbear”. She shook his hand, her grip gentle yet strong, “Congratulations, you’re hired!”

Mike felt the tall body beside him go rigid, his whole body tensing up, “Wha-“.

“Now, now, there is no need to be nervous,” There was a friendly pat on his shoulder this time, “Just get here on time for your shift- twelve o’clock on the dot, and if you have any worries a recording will be sent to the phone in here-“.

She paused for a moment, her aged mocha eyes flitting from Mike’s somewhat moist appearance and to TDH; “My, my, it seems that the heavens really have opened up, haven’t they? Jack-“, she sent a pointed look into the other males direction, “Go get our new night guard a dry uniform and give him a tour, will you? While I have some work that has to be finished”.

Without another word, Mrs Fazbear spun around on her heels and exited the door closest to her- the one that presumably led down the western corridor.

That was…Interesting. How did he get the job? He didn’t even show her his resume! The curly brunette casted his confused gaze at the figure that was still beside him, silently staring at the swift exit his-their- boss just took. Wait, what was the name she mentioned? Jack? Well-

“This way” The sound of the deep baritone snapped him out of his thoughts, (what was it with people here always cutting him off?) and a strong hand was pressed into his back to guide him blindly into the direction of a small box room; the Staff Room.

The room seemed to double up as a broom closet as were most of the things that were inside were cleaning products, the odd hoover, toiletries’ and stocks of party items in bulk packaging. Seemingly the only feature that it had to be considered a staff lounge was the small two seated faded couch and the old unstable coffee table that was pushed near the back wall.

TDH- Jack shifted around the room for a couple of moments, moving empty boxes and wrappers before standing in front of Mike with a dark blue bundle wrapped in his arms. However, what Mike didn’t expect was that the ebony haired man he didn’t give the bundle to him straight away, he just stood there, studying him with his blue eyes. Beginning to feel uncomfortable, Mike cleared his throat and held out his arms.

Jack saw the cough as a signal to give him the uniform, however he whispered to him in his deep voice, “You are not working here- especially at night and if you have a will to live, you will turn around now and leave for good.”

The still moist brunette stood there, still on the spot, dumbfounded. Was…Was he being threatened? To quit the job he hadn’t even started? What was this guy’s problem!? His first assumption was right, he was just an asshole that didn’t want him to work here. But why? He would get less attention? A lesser pay check? Jack was a waiter after all- the only one that worked there even, and they only got paid in tips. Mike internally nodded to himself with confidence, that had to be it.  

“No! I know what game you are playing, this is my new job now and I need the money- not that it is any business of yours,” Mike sent Jack a glare, which in honesty wasn’t very frightening compared to the size of the other man, and roughly took the garments into his hands.

There was a silence in the room for a pregnant pause, before an irritated huff was heard and blue eyes rolled.

“Fine,” Something was shoved onto his head and over his emerald eyes, “Come on then.”

Mike reached up and grabbed whatever was placed on his damp curls. It was a hat that went with his uniform, it was blue like the rest of it and had the words ‘Security’ in big white letters. He spun around just to catch the sight of the man leaving the room, his hands in his pockets, at the corner of his emerald eye.

“Hey!”

He yelled after him and struggled to jog to catch up to Jack’s longer legged strides. Distantly, he could hear his own footsteps clambering down the hallway, and decided to take note how loud they echoed off the walls. After being near forced to run towards the other man, he managed to catch up to him in the children’s party room. He had his back to him and standing in front of the stage- in front of three huge animals.

“This here,” He stiffly pointed to the giant purple rabbit that had a red bow tie and carried a guitar in his huge paws, “Is Bonnie, he is the guitarist here in Freddy’s band.”

Giving the animatronic a once over, Mike decided that Bonnie was…..The most depressed rabbit he had ever seen (besides bugs). The rabbits big fake eyes were halve lidded over his crimson irises, he was dirty (and after checking the others, they all were) with hand prints, grime and a certain gooey substance around his eyes and mouth (which were also present on the others).

“She is Chica the Chick….Not a duck, she doesn’t like it when you call her that,” He muttered the last part quietly to himself, however Mike still heard it. It was strange, taking about an object like it was real with feelings, emotions and the like, he shot the ebony haired male a peculiar look.

Chica, Mike decided, was a stunt to cheaply advertise to the children to eat more of their pizza as she was wearing a white bib that had the words ‘Let’s eat!’ in large colourful bubble writing. She also seemed to promote the birthday parties that could be held there by the pink cupcake with large, cartoony eyes that resemble those of the animatronic characters sitting in her wing. Overall, she was more of a billboard than a member of their fictional band.

“And of course the famous Freddy himself as the leader.”

Mike took in the appearance of the bear, all the way from his top hat, microphone and chestnut brown fur coat.

“He looks like a douche,” Mike sated bluntly, earning a slight jump from the man next to him, it had been after all a few minutes since he had spoken.

With a raised ebony eyebrow Jack questioned, “Oh, what makes you say that?”

A half lazy shrug was his answer followed a musing whisper, “He just has such a smug smile on his face and he has an air of self-righteousness about him…….Almost like you.”

That earned a grunt of amusement and silence reigned. It wasn’t awkward, not in the least, but it heavy, like they were waiting for something to happen.

“If you really are going to keep this job, at least take on some advice, okay?” Jack faintly asked after a while, slowly sliding his bright blue gaze from the animals to the brunette. After hearing no affirmative, he carried on and folded his arms against his chest.

“First thing to remember is to always arrive on work early, it doesn’t matter if you are busy during the day, you always come in early while I am still here or the cleaners, secondly-." He swallowed thickly, “When on duty, never leave the office and never get distracted.”

The Brunette stood there confused but he had an uneasy feeling crawling up at the back of his neck, why was this man acting as if he was being sent off to die? He was supposed to be his asshole colleague, not someone that expected to be at his funeral.

Almost as if he had read his mind, Jack spoke in that tone of voice, a deep baritone that seemed to be soothing and concerned but all at the same time authoritative, “I know that you have no idea of what I am talking about, but you will in time and I am asking you to be cautious. And I know I sound absolutely mad right now but I……Just be careful”.

With that he turned, rather quickly, and left, however not before he took the blue cap from Mike’s hands and placing it on his head, adding a little flick on the edge of it so it tilted up, away from his eyes. A happy chirping noise of the bell signified his exit of the building, it was nine already, the cleaners would be there soon and he had a pampered cat at home that demanded attention.

Mike flicked his wrist up and looked at the time on his watch, he was going to go home, have a shower, a coffee, change into a different of clothes and be there for his shift. He walked out of the finger marked glass door, a chime of the bell at his back, and looked up at the sign above him. A twitch came from his shoulder, it bothered him that he hadn’t spotted it before. In bold it read; ‘Freddy Fazbears Pizzeria!’ With all of the band members standing behind it in a cartoonish fashion. It had at one point or another been a happy sign to entice children at its door, however it had been warped by the weather and time, making the characters look more like demented demonic creatures than the happy music playing animals that they should be. Maybe the good vibes that he got from the place before had been misread, all he could feel now was this burning sensation at the back of his mind that made him feel like someone was watching him.

The new security guard sighed and shifted a little, his clothes were dry- and the weather was now clear. He scooped up all of his roughly folded up uniform in one arm and got his dried jade beanie from his pocket. As he was taking off the blue security cap off however a rustle stopped him and he looked inside of the lining. Inside the material was a yellow star shaped sticky note that read **; if you need anything, and I mean anything; call me- Asshole Douche.** There was a mobile number underneath it, however it was the name at the end of the note that made his lips twitch upwards.

With the note in his pocket, the beanie on his head and the uniform in his arms, he wearily looked around the practically abandoned street and walked into the general direction of his damp apartment alone. It was after dark after all, and besides, at Freddy Fazbears Pizza everyone had to follow the rules…


	4. Cuatro

Mike spun around on the rickety old office chair, his back slouched and whispering song lyrics under his breath. The light in the tiny box room office was on, but dim, only illuminating the desk area where he worked, making it clear to see the huge spider webs and the dust festering over the surfaces. It was completely silent, apart from the mildly concerning loud humming noise that emitted from the fan (it really did get annoying) and the little rusty squeaks that the rolling chair released as it spun. Black and white tiles blurred into a warped mess in front of his emerald vision, grey chipping paint hazily melting in the dim light. With one more muttered line of the song done, he moved over to the chorus, humming along with fan when he forgot the words to the catchy tune. His head bobbed to the imaginary beat, his curls bouncing to the rhythm, he lifted his arms in the air, still spinning the chair with his feet like the bored- man child that he was.  

For some strange reason, the curly haired brunette actually let what Jack had told him go to heart. He didn’t know why exactly, but the body language and actions that the tall male displayed seemed genuinely concerned (along with a few other emotions that Mike couldn’t place at that moment). So that was why, two hours later, after a much needed shower, a cup of coffee and a quick change into his new dark blue uniform, he had set off back to his work place. At eleven o’clock he had arrived, an hour early, and with the lack of mental stimulation he had grew bored very rapidly within the first ten minutes. This problem didn’t happen very often when he was home alone with an apartment that didn’t have a television or any other form of entertainment. Hell, he didn’t have that much furniture, just the odd few things that he couldn’t live without that he had scavenged from his old hom- house ( _his house_ ), only the bits and pieces that wouldn’t be missed. Sure, he had his phone, but it was cheaply bought from the local supermarket that only had the call function and nothing else. Well, it wasn’t as if he had anyone to call any way, it was just for the emergences that, touch wood, would never happen.    

 

**_Maybe Jack could be the one I call?_ **

****

At that thought, Mike stopped his mini silent rave, in fact he had stopped all moment, the chair twirling one last time before halting with a rusty squeak. A red tint spread over his lightly tanned cheeks and his stomach did little tingly summersaults. Where had that come from? Slowly with a shuddery breath he reached within the dark blue material of his breast pocket (the one located in the area of were his heart was), wrapping his slim fingers around the sticky star shaped note that he had stuffed in there earlier without a single second thought. The name that TD- _Jack_ had signed for himself made his lips twitch into a faint smile.

Wait! What was he doing? Mike shook his head firmly, his curly strands sweeping the air and fanning out into awkward directions. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t let anyone in- especially since the acciden-

He shook his head again, letting the yellow sticky star to fall onto the grey old desk and raked his fingers through his messy strands. **No, don’t go there**.

A shrill obnoxious ring from the phone that was laying on the desk caught his attention and he detangled his fingers from his curls. He wasn’t expecting a call was he? What did Mrs Fazbear say? Something about a message being sent at the start of his shift to give him help in case he was stuck? Was he supposed to answer or-  

_Hello? Hello, hello? Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled in on your first night. Um, I actually worked in that office before you. I'm finishing up my last week now, as a matter of fact. So, I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you there's nothing to worry about. Uh, you'll do fine. So, let's just focus on getting you through your first week. Okay?_

Mike wearily nodded his head, despite the man not being in the room and not seeing him answer his rhetorical question with a simple action.

_Uh, let’s see, first there's an introductory greeting from the company that I'm supposed to read. Uh, I-It's kind of a legal thing, you know. Um, "Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. A magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life. Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or a person. Upon discovering the damage or death have occurred, a missing person report will be filed within 90 days, or as soon property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached, and the carpets have been replaced._

Wait, what was that? Mike let a slight frown to sink into his expression.

_Blah blah blah, now that might sound bad, I know, but there's really nothing to worry about. Uh, the animatronic characters here do get a bit quirky at night, but do I blame them? No. If I were forced to sing those same stupid songs for twenty years and I never got a bath? I'd probably be a bit irritable at night too. So, remember, these characters hold a special place in the hearts of children and we need to show them a little respect, right? Okay._

Q-quirky? What is that supposed to mean? In what way?

_So, just be aware, the characters do tend to wander a bit. Uh, they're left in some kind of free roaming mode at night. Uh...Something about their servers locking up if they get turned off for too long. Uh, they used to be allowed to walk around during the day too. But then there was The Bite of '87. Yeah. I-It's amazing that the human body can live without the frontal lobe, you know?_

His emerald eyes widened significantly, gripping the edge of the old dirty desk in a white knuckled hold, blunt nails digging their way through the table top. No…This couldn’t be real. It has to be fake….It was a prank right? A joke you pull on the new kid starting? Any minute now Jack will come around the corner and laugh at how much of a scared-y cat he was.

The man’s nervous one sided chatter continued.

_Uh, now concerning your safety, the only real risk to you as a night watchmen here, if any, is the fact that these characters, uh, if they happen to see you after hours probably won't recognize you as a person. They'll p-most likely see you as a metal endoskeleton without its costume on. Now since that's against the rules here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, they'll probably try to...forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit. Um, now, that wouldn't be so bad if the suits themselves weren't filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronic devices especially around the facial area. So, you could imagine how having your head forcefully pressed inside one of those could cause a bit of discomfort...and death. Uh, the only parts of you that would likely see the light of day again would be your eyeballs and teeth when they pop out the front of the mask, heh._

Nonononononon-

_Y-Yeah, they don't tell you these things when you sign up. But hey, first day should be a breeze. I'll chat with you tomorrow. Uh, check those cameras, and remember to close the doors only if absolutely necessary. Gotta conserve power. Alright, good night._

Good night; that was it? They drop a bomb shell like that and that’s what you leave with? What the fuck!?

Mike stood straight, back stiff (so stiff that his back started to twinge in the process) and grabbed the tablet that had been sitting on the dirty desk amongst the bits of balled up paper, wrappers and drink cartoons that had probably been left by Mrs Fazbear during the day. He switched the sleek tablet on, his paranoia and anxiety piling on as seconds passed.

The first thing Mike’s eyes were drawn to was the green power bar at the bottom left corner of the screen, smugly showing off the percentage of the power which was now at seventy five. Turning his main focus to the warped imagery of the cameras video feed, he flipped swiftly between shots, analysing them with a critic’s eye.

Cam 1C: Fine

Cam 5: Normal

Cam 1B: Regular

Cam 1A: Usu- **No**  

Nonononononono!

The Depressed Bugs Bunny was gone! Th-that can’t be possible.

The brunette shook his head again in denial, beads of sweat circled his hot skin. Mike’s face paled from its usual darker shade, all the colour draining out of it like water down a plug whole and gripped the tablet harder in his moist hands. With one jerked moment he swung away from the chair, pushing it away from him harshly until it hit the back wall of dull chipped paint.

It couldn’t be possible, he had checked the whole pizzeria out just after he got in there an hour early before work. He made sure all the windows were closed, the doors locked and he made sure that absolutely nothing was missing. This- this was a cruel joke, that was it, a prank to say welcome to the company! Any minute now, that Asshole, who Mike had no doubt had started the whole thing, would swing through that door with that cocky smirk twisted on his face. Of course that-

And then it clicked, the seed of uneasiness that had been planted in the back of his subconscious had now grew and flourished in his head. The concerned looks, the fact he had been given the job on the spot, the reason he was given unusual tips for a job as simple as this, the reason that Jack had been talking to him as if he was sending a dead man into battle, the reason for the dull sad eyes that looked upon him; they knew. They knew this was going to happen. And they knew he was going to die by morning.  


	5. Cinco

Ragged breathing pierced through the heavy atmosphere, the annoying humming of the fan over shadowing the swift intakes of air and the reckless out of time thumping of a panicked heart. Beads of sweat circled heated flesh and narrow shoulders stiff in fear introduced stress. Slim lightly tanned fingers hastily poured over the sleek black tablet, rapidly switching from camera to static filled camera. Desperate emerald orbs fleetingly combed through the footage, becoming more frantic and clumsy as the searched continued.

Mike breathed hard, his chest heaving and face as pale of freshly fallen winter snow. He couldn’t find Bonnie (who he had dubbed as the Depressed Bugs Bunny). With one hand he placed the sleek black tablet on the filthy old grey desk, still flicking through with a hurried pace and wrapped an arm around his trembling form. Paranoia and vulnerability licked at his shaking body, and he hesitantly swept his desperate emerald gaze downward to the power bar; sixty three percent. It was only one in the morning.

He checked all of the cameras again, maybe the depressed rabbit was in a place where there wasn’t a camera present?

**Cam 2A: Nope**

**Cam 3: Nah**

**Cam 1C: Non (If you want to be fancy about it)**

**Cam 5: N- Yes!**

Within the dark dusty room at the back of the stage surrounded by double ganger masks and spare electrical parts of machinery, stood the giant purple bowtie wearing rabbit. Standing there in the warped imagery of the cameras view, Bonnie looked at up at him with his sunken half closed crimson irises, a wide wicked open smile had been twisted on his metallic features, making sure Mike got a view of those horrid off colour blunt teeth. How!? How had it reached that room without him seeing!? Can it fucking teleport or something?!

The chocolate haired brunette shook his head, trying to think rationally through his panicked mind. However despite himself and his adrenalin filled body, he felt himself relax slightly in ease. He knew where Bonnie was (a wide fleeting glance at the screen conformed that) and all he had to do was to keep an eye on him. Besides didn’t the guy on the phone say that the first night was always the easiest? Mike’s breathing slowed into a much quieter pitch and his heart decelerated its pace at throwing itself against the curved bars of its cage. The new security guard tilted his curly head to the side and listened, the fans ( _that_ _annoying_ _little shit_ ) humming the only thing that pierced the air.

It was fine, _he_ was going to be fine and he was _not_ going to die this morning. The depressed rabbit was staying were it was and-

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nopity nope nope. No

The Duc- _Chicken was_ gone.

Mike tensed yet again, his pervious somewhat relaxed state disappearing out the window. The big yellow advertisement was missing from the back of the stage area, leaving the only things in the room now were the fake clouds that had been stuck on the chipped painted wall, the shiny foil stars and of course the smug douche himself.

Distantly, the chocolate haired security guard could hear a soft tone being played somewhere within the gloomy darkness, it was childlike and almost innocent enough to put an infant to sleep. However, right now in the darkness of the pizzeria at two o’clock in the morning with sixty one percent power, and a whole pack of animatronic creatures hunting him down to make him become one with the band that was _literally to die for_ , it didn’t have the same effect. In fact it had the opposite effect on the petrified new security guard, it caused his panicked breathing resume and he felt droplets of sweat slink down the slightly tanned flesh of his neck.

With swift thin fingers he located the corrupted look alike character from Sesame Street, the sunny yellow colour being easy to spot in the gloomy static view of the camera. She was close, too close to his office and she was looking at him with the same sunken metallic features. In the view of camera four A, Chica’s metal yellow head was tilted to the side, looking in a direction past the dim distorted footage. Her large beak hung open, giving the curly haired male a very pleasant sight of two sets of rounded teeth (one set on the bottom of the huge orange beak and the other set at the back of the mask) and Mike’s mind suddenly went back to the Phone Guy’s pervious words that he heard hours ago.

_“The only parts of you that would likely see the light of day again would be your eyeballs and teeth when they pop out the front of the mask.”_

Mike trembled again, his snowy white face swiftly becoming a sickly green colour and he resisted the urge to vomit all over the glossy tablet in front of him that he held with a moist white knuckled grip. He grit his teeth together harshly and breathed out hard, the yellow billboard (this really wasn’t the time to be making fun of the creature that is going to kill you) had already claimed an unfortunate soul’s life. How many more had fallen before him? The pizzeria had been open for years, before he was even born, had this been happening from the very start? Night guard after unexpecting night guard?  

Emerald orbs slid under their thin protective lids and his back muscles stiffened enough for them to ache protest. Mike felt the moister building up at the back of lids and he shook his head determinately, not letting himself to cry. He hadn’t cried since-

He shook his again, sticky limp strands fanning out to give himself his famous mad evil genius look that Einstein would be proud of. **Now was not the time to worry about this**.

Heavy metallic footsteps echoed from the western hallway, slow and rhythmic as the plodded. Mike’s emerald eyes snapped open and he let a string of mild curses fall from his thin lips; **_he forgot about Bonnie._**

Shuffling a few spaces, the curly haired male popped his head through the door-less entry way. A black abyss greeted him as he looked about and he returned to his previous position when he couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face. He looked around fleetingly with an edged expression, taking note of the creepy posters, childish drawings and the wires that hung behind the door leading towards the ceiling. Finally he spotted the two rectangular buttons that were situated on the outside of the door frame and he slammed his lightly tanned fist on the white light one. Flickering lights turned on and illuminated the hallway with a lightening effect. The slow heavy footsteps continued all the while and the outline of the huge metal rabbit appeared in the bullet proof glass window.

With a squeak of fear, Mike punched the red button for the door and watched as it speedily shot down to the tiled for with a heavy thump. Two drooped crimson irises glared at him through the abyss and Mike planted himself against the opposite wall, tablet clutched to his chest. Crimson met emerald as they stared into each other’s eyes for a few seconds before the purple rabbit placed a heavy paw on the window and started to push the glass with all of its metal mite. The curly haired male gave another squeak of terror before his attention was diverted to the sound of scrapping metal. He hit the light button for the eastern door and let a scream pass his suddenly dry throat. By the time he had been focusing on the depressed rabbit that was knocking on his window, Chica had made her way through the pizzeria and was now at the end of the corridor, the jagged metal of her wing cutting through the wall like a hot knife through butter. If she could do that to tough brick and cement, imagine what she could to fle-.

Mike didn’t even let that thought run fully through his adrenaline filled mind as his clammy hand landed on the door button to close it. It to, like the other one closed the gap between the roof and tiled floor swiftly, trapping the man in the tiny box room. He looked at the tablet in his tense grip and gave a dry gasp of disbelief.

**Power left: 10%**

The security guard shook his head slowly in denial, his jaw slack as his mouth hung open in a silent shriek and moisture building up behind his eyes.

**9%**

**Nope**

**7%**

**No**

**5%**

**Oh God _no._**

**2%**

**_I’m going to die._ **

With a lightly tanned hand, Mike wiped his teary emerald eyes before closing them slowly and slipping his body down the grotty chipped wall. He sent a silent prayer and let his head go limp against his heaving chest.

**1%**

**_Sister I will be with you soon._ **


	6. Seis

**0%**

Lights flickered off with a tired wheeze that echoed and bounced from the grotty dull chipped painted walls. The two massive industrial steel doors to the small box room swung open with a metallic clang, rattling as they swiftly ascended up to the grotty spider web infested ceiling. A deafening silence reined, the only sounds being emitted in the whole Pizzeria were the ragged uneven panicked gasps of air that escaped from the soon to be dead security guards thin dry lips.

Mike had curled himself into a tiny ball against the cracked grey painted wall, lightly tanned hands entangled in his chocolate colour curls, blunt nails digging into the roots harshly. His curly head rested limply on top of his heaving chest, and he could feel every jerked movement that his heart made as it flung itself against the curved ivory bars of its cage. He listened and waited despairingly in the gloomy darkness, moist emerald eyes clenched closed tightly, unwilling to peer into the ebony abyss were the metallic monsters hid, their razor sharp claws coated with specks of dried crimson. Heavy metallic footsteps continued, plodding along slowly, as did the jagged scraping metal sound, only this time closer and so much louder. The twinkling nauseatingly innocent melody had never stopped, childlike and soft; it made Mike curl up tighter.

A loud raspy scream suddenly bellowed from the blanket of dusty darkness, it sounded wounded, enraged and……Like a child’s loud screech of agony. The curly brunette trembled, his back burning from strained muscles and torture. He felt something metallic and jagged slowly pierce into the soft delicate flesh of his neck and large crimson speckled paws take hold of him roughly, digging into his sides harshly. Mike prepared to breathe in one last time, the powerful hold tighten and-

A strong booming ring of a bell cut through the air, to Mike it vaguely sounded like a ring from an old grandfathers clock, only happier and a slight more relived. Time stood still and the curly haired soon-to-be-corpse fleetingly wondered if a silence could be so intense. Nothing moved, and Mike didn’t dare to ruin the stony silence by gasping out for air. Finally after the brief pregnant pause that seemed like years that only took seconds, the jagged razor sharp metal retracted from his pierced trembling flesh. A series of short clattering squeaks followed swiftly after, and the chocolate haired male dared to peak his confused emerald gaze from under his delicate protective lids.

Bonnie and Chica were facing each other, dark pink meeting crimson as they conversed in their strange language of odd squeaks and clangs. The purple rabbit saw the brunette security guard staring at him with his wide orbs and he screeched intimidatingly at him, before spinning around and leaving on its heavy clunky metal feet, down the corridor to presumably go back to the stage. The yellow chicken did the same not long afterwards, the dreadful scraping sound ever present as it ambled back down the dark hallway.

Mike released a wheeze of air that he was holding, curling up on his side on the cold black and white tiled floor, sleek black tablet in his slackened grip. With tightly clenched fists he turned it on and gapped in disbelief when he saw the warped screen.

**6AM.**

Mike seeped into the cold tiled floor, his exhausted trembling body relaxing from its previous fright. Biting his thin bottom lip lightly, he closed his eyes again and warily heard the humming of the little fan on the disgustingly dirty desk turn back on. He breathed out hard through his nose, it was the power turning on he eventually realised, his fatigued mind finding it hard to catch up with his surroundings. When saw the back of his lids turn into a sharp orange colour, it confirmed his lagged minds hypothesis.

For a while he just laid their on his side, the cool tile soothing his back and the newly found dripping piercings on his neck. After a few seconds he heard running footfalls of something swiftly making its way up the hallway and he curled up tighter, eyes clenching shut even more harshly. **No more, please, _just stop._**

They skidded to a stop just above his head, a crinkling sound and harsh breathes in its wake. Wait- breath? A gasping noise followed and Mike slowly opened his emerald eyes.

Jack was there, ebony hair messy, ridiculously orange striped clothes dishevelled, panting like a dog and clutching a brown paper bag to his chest with his pale fingertips. His blue eyes had big black bags underneath them (which Mike guessed were from lack of sleep) and he was looking at him with a worried expression that clouded his bright orbs. Slowly he kneeled, placing the brown paper bag on the tilted somewhere nearby and pulling the exhausted alive figure into his long arms-into the first hug Mike had had in years.

“You’re alive,” He gasped out, still out of breathe from his sprinted,” I was so worried, I-I couldn’t sleep.”

The arms around him tighten their hold and a cold nose was buried in Mike’s chocolate curly hair. Mike blinked slowly, and sunk into the warm embrace, “I’m fine, I’m alive.” He whispered, to Jack or himself he didn’t know, it was like it finely dawned on him; **he was alive.**

The arms shifted around him, and he gave a grunt of displeasure. A crinkling noise followed and Mike eyed the bag that the ebony haired male had grabbed from the floor. Almost as if he had read his lagged mind, Jack spoke lowly in his deep baritone voice, “I didn’t know if you would be alright so- so I got previsions: bandages, tape, disinfectant, stitches and a lot more. Almost the whole first aid kit.” The ebony haired man gave a weak small smile and propped the injured man against his broad chest.

“Let me sort out your neck,” He whispered soothingly, gently rubbing the messy curls on top of the other man’s head. After he had studied the wounds on his neck, he continued to disinfect them and wrap them up with a soft cotton gauze, pale fingers working lightly as he did so. Once done he lifted the shorter male up bridle style to place him on the old rickety office chaired that Mike had hit earlier due to the nightly frantic panic.

Mike struggled briefly as he felt himself being picked up, especially in _that_ position (he was still a man! He did not need to be carried, he was strong and manly!). However sunk against the old chairs back rest nevertheless. The sleek black tablet that he was previously holding was pried from him and a warm freshly made coffee was pushed into his lightly tanned hands. He slowly lifted a slim brow, why-

“Too warm you up,” Jack replied the silent question with a small, slightly happier smile, Mike liked it- it was much better than the Assholes cocky smirk that he sported when they first met. However despite the man’s frontal cockiness, Mike could see that he was genuinely kind hearted- why else would he come in early just to pick his ass of the floor? Could it be that-

Mike shook his head, limp chocolate curls flattening against his head and took a drink of the warm coffee, not minding in the slightest when it slightly burned the roof of his dry mouth. A clearing of throat caught his attention and he peered over the rim of the take away cup to look at the tall dark haired male.

TDH rubbed the back of his neck, the small smile still twisted at the edge of his mouth, his bright blue eyes averted to the floor,” I will get your work pay but it isn’t really much, about twenty four dollars and then you can leave to look for a new job.“ He ended his speech by rifling through his pants pockets, looking for his wallet.

Suddenly Mike shot up, his exhausted body pulling itself back to life by just one muttered sentence, “No!” He stated loudly, clenching his fists and hot coffee flying everywhere to form a brown puddle in the middle of the tiled floor.

Bright blue eyes widened out of their sockets, “What?”

“You heard me! No! I am not quitting this job!”

An angry look suddenly clouded over the pale face, “Why not? You almost died! The only reason that I let you do last night was because I thought you would understand!”

The brunette crossed his lightly tanned arms over his chest, an equally thunderous look on his features,” I need this job, or else I will be evicted from my flat! I know it is a stupid excuse to endanger my life like this, but I won’t have one if I don’t get the money I need by Friday!”

Jack looked desperate now, fidgeting, looking for a way to get the stubborn night guard out of the job, “What about family? Can you ask them for a loan?”

Emerald orbs diverted themselves sadly to the black and white floor, “I don’t have anyone anymore, “He muttered lowly.

“What was that?”

Mikes head shot up to look the man in the eyes, “Nothing you douche!” He scowled.

A sudden smile broke out into the pale man’s face, a certain mischievous glint appearing in his bright blue eyes, “Oh? I thought my name was ‘Asshole’?”

“It is!” His anger eased and he struggled not to smile himself, “But you have many names!”

Ebony eyebrows arched quizzically, "What are they?”

Mike started to name a few, counting them off with his fingers,” Douche, Asshole, Cocky Bastard, TDH-“

The security guard frozen when he named the last one, a red tint flushing his hot cheeks and he slipped his bottom lip between his teeth.

“What was that?” Jack asked amused.

A stuttered reply was all he got, “N-nothing you A-asshole”.


	7. Siete

Large sunken cartoonish eyes stared at the chocolate curly haired security guard from the gloomy darkness on top of the dusty desk, its pink plastic features muddy and small white goofy teeth glinting menacingly. Narrowed orbs glared back unwaveringly, not willing to lose the possibly (did this one come alive too?) one sided staring competition. The smell of fat, grease and sweating children still lingered in the air from the day’s work and a small lightly tanned nose scrunched itself up in distaste, a scowl now marrying a lightly tanned face. Thin bony fingers drummed rhythmically against the dusty desk, it being the only noise the impatient brunette male had to listen to, the fan ( _little shit_ ) had been turned off long ago, finally freeing the atmosphere of its God awful humming sound short forever- well, until the early day light of the morning reached the dark corners of the building anyway.

Sighing lowly, Mike spun on the old metal office chair, and met the big hollow eyes of the small pink cupcake, silently wondering how he had never saw it sitting there before. By the day it sat perched innocently on the jagged metal of the big yellow billboards wing, subliminally reminding the happy children to not just cram various amounts of greasy pizzas in their mouths, but to eat as many chocolate cupcakes with sickly sweet pink frosting until their stomachs burst. He rolled his eyes, how was it supposed to promote their ‘child friendly’ company _for children_ with creepy cup cakes with eyes that could stare into your soul and glitchy killer animatronics that liked to butcher harmless night guards for sport? However, then again, Mike doubted the children came to the place because of the circling entertainment that looped words like a broken record, they came there for the food, the cheap party packs and their retro video game machines that weren’t really that bad. He had played on them earlier with Jack, either pinning against each other or playing as a team to defeat different coloured ghosts at maze games or stopping an alien race of invaders. They had talked too, about their lives (turns out Jack was one of three siblings), hobbies (he was a keen athlete- something that Mike lacked) and their reason for being hired at the pizzeria (pricy college fees). It was nice; Mike hadn’t had fun with another human being his age for- well years.

Light relaxed footsteps walking up the hallway beside him snapped him out of his thoughts and he swiftly snapped him head up to the door on his right. A tall figure walked into the steel door way and the American security guard relaxed a tad from his pervious edgy posture. The ebony haired man entered almost silently, flicking his long fringe out of his bright blue eyes and carrying a soggy mop over his broad shoulder.

He clicked his tongue with his teeth, “Cleaning is done.” He stated stretching slightly, the joints in his back popping and making Mike cringe in the process.

The sitting brunette hummed slightly and did a full three hundred and sixty twirl of the old rusty rolling chair, “I suppose you will be going now then?”

“Relax a bit will you? I don’t have anywhere to be at the moment,” The ebony haired male leaned against the steel frame behind, not looking paranoid in the leased as he left his back vulnerable to the black abyss. He let a cocky smirk twist on his features.

“Thanks for the help with the cleaning by the way,” A ebony fringe flopped as he nodded his head in the direction of the soggy mop that he had propped against the grey dusty desk, warm soapy bubbles dripping onto the black and white tiles to form a puddle there,” It was most appreciated.”

Mike dipped his hat down in teasing gentlemanly manor, sarcasm evident of his lightly tanned features, “Your welcome.” His face then smoothed out into a serious expression, “It’s not like I get paid over time for it, it doesn’t matter if you’re a whizz at Pacman, I am not doing your job that you do for money.”

“Whatever you say,” He sighed, tilted his head up to the side and looked at the newest night guard with a slightly dropped look on his pale thin face.

Mike regarded him silently and tilted his head to the head slightly, “Why do you have to do the cleaning anyway? I thought this place had cleaners to sort everything out for the next day?”

The dropped expression on the pale face became pinched, “If Mrs Fazbear can’t afford constant electricity for the _safety_ of her employees, do you really think she can afford to pay for more people to come in here and do a job that could be settled on someone else? Besides….They tend to be very skittish around……Well…….You know who.”

Mike hummed again, and rubbed the thin protective lids of his eyes (how can something so important be protected by something so delicate?) to wipe away the fatigue that rested heavily over them. A silence reigned after, it wasn’t tense, not by far, but it definitely wasn’t comfortable. He cursed himself in the dark chambers in his mind, slightly peeved at his lack of people skills, he wasn’t used to engaging another human being in a conversation this often.       

“I’m guessing you don’t socialise with people very often.”

A lazy half shrug was what he got as the answer, until Mike decided to use his barely used vocal chords, “No, not really. I always used to be a silent child,” He wrinkled his nose up as he whispered that information to the near silent room, just their collective gentle breathes of air the only thing in the room loud enough to hear,” I used to creep out the other kids at school with my silence, but it wasn’t me fault; it was how I was raised”.

It was Jacks time to hum before he cockily asked;” So you wouldn’t mind doing today sometime again?”

Mike considered it for a moment, going to work at Freddy Fazbears Pizza and talking to Jack was the most social thing he has done- ever. He remembered the day he had just had after the fright inducing stress that he had faced the night before: the play fights, the banter, the games and the jokes that they had shared.

“Alright,” He answered eventually, lowly.

The ebony haired man’s face grew a wide smile that was big enough to just about nearly rip his pale face into two pieces.

“Alright!” He echoed cheerfully, the face splitting grin still on his pale features, “It’s a date.” With that he strolled out of the open door way- rather quickly, his laughter bouncing off the halls as it vibrated from his chest.

Mike jerked out of his chair in one swift moment, a scarlet tint in his tanned cheeks as he hollered back to the giggling male that raced through the darkness away from the brunette’s anger.

“It is not a date!”

Really, **_it wasn’t_.**


	8. Ocho

Lightly tanned hands grabbed hold of the sleek black tablet with a steel grip, the ends of each bony finger turning an unhealthy ghostly white from the pressure. The silent atmosphere was heavy and tense, a pitch black evil aura hung low about the place. Controlled puffs of air were taken in, however falling from trembling tanned lips. Bright concentrated orbs slowly looked down at the time that was displayed on the warped glass screen.

It had started.

Pea green eyes focused on the static filled screen, fleetingly flicking through the different camera feeds with stiff fingers until the dimly lit stage was put into view. Nothing had changed since the late hour clean up TDH had done, the daily rub down that got everything ready for the next day. Bonnie, Chica and Freddy were still there in the awkward poses that they used to entertain the sweaty children that ran around on wobbly legs during the day, fake instruments still clutched in huge metallic paws. Mike sighed hard in relief through grit teeth and focused again on the fizzy screen to the bottom left where the power was displayed; 97%.

The familiar shrill ringing of the phone echoed through the dusty box like room, causing the chocolate haired security guard to startle in his rusty old rolling chair and let a small frightened squeak escape out of his throat. He clutched at his chest slightly, mimicking the cliché position of an old man grasping at his chest as his racing heart sped up against his breast bone as an action of an upcoming possible heart-attack. A muttered curse tumbled from his lips and he sent a heated intense glare at the unexpecting old black clunky phone.

_Uh, hello? Hello? Uh, well, if you're hearing this, you made it to day two, uh, congrats! Uh, I-I won't talk quite as long this time since Freddy and his friends tend to become more active as the week progresses. Uhh, it might be a good idea to peek at those cameras while I talk just to make sure everyone's in their proper place, you know._

Mike lets his bright green gaze fall back onto the camera feed in his white knuckled grip, scanning the distorted screen swiftly. He shook his head, his dark blue security cap keeping his curls in place and sticking to his forehead with nervous speckled sweat. It was fine, he was fine; Freddy was there, Bonnie was there and Chica-

**_Chica’s missing._ **

A ragged gasped escaped his thin lips and an intake of air was roughly taken in through his nose. Lightly tanned fingers zipped across the screen, gliding atop of the smooth surface swiftly before finding the big yellow chicken in the cameras frontal view of the party room. She was standing between two of the numerous set up long party tables, her yellow head tilted up to the side to face the camera, sunken pink eyes wide and her large orange beak open to show off the horrendous two sets of blunt off colour teeth. Mike shuddered, however a secrete part of him, the one that lurked in the deep dark corners of his mind, wanted him to giggle childishly. For some reason he wanted to laugh in the terrifying crimson speckled robots stance, it vaguely looked like one of the models that his sister used to pour over in one of her magazines.

**_Who are you posing for Chica?_ **

That thought made him snort in humour through his nose, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his thin lips. Luckily enough, Mike’s _positively random_ thoughts were drawn short by the sound of a clearing throat and nervous crackling voice on the old phone, causing him to one again pull his focus onto the screen once again.   

_Uh... Interestingly enough, Freddy himself doesn't come off stage very often. I heard he becomes a lot more active in the dark though, so, hey, I guess that's one more reason not to run out of power, right? I-I also want to emphasize the importance of using your door lights. There are blind spots in your camera views, and those blind spots happen to be right outside your doors._

A single thin brown eyebrow shot up under a dark blue cap in a sarcastic manner and Mike silently thanked the other male for letting him know that information _on his second night._

_So if-if you can’t find something- or someone -on your cameras, be sure to check the door lights. Uh, you might only have a few seconds to react... Uh, not that you would be in any danger, of course. I'm not implying that. Uh, also, uh, check on the curtain in Pirate Cove from time to time. The character in there seems unique in that he becomes more active if the cameras remain off for long periods of time. I guess he doesn't like being watched. I don't know. Anyway, I'm sure you have everything under control! Uh, talk to you soon!_

That made the new security guard freeze in his old rusty seat, his sarcastic filled expression dropping significantly. A fourth character? How? There was only ever three characters- Mike knew that. He had only been introduced to the three animals that performed on stage (he had even saw them performing their routine once, their movements were stiff and exaggerated, while their singing looped from time to time, like a broken record player). Plus, the three mascots that entertained the children during the day (and terrorised him during the night) were everywhere: on the paper plates, on the plastic cups, the pamphlets, the menus, on the back of every waiter’s uniform (Mike was fairly certain that it was on the back of his as well) and of course on the entrance. If there was another character, then why was there no sign of them anywhere? What happened?

Mike paused for a moment, tongue stuck in between his teeth and with his finger hovering over the monitor to switch camera views. With one lingering look at the mechanical yellow bird, he switched from camera to camera until he found what he was looking for.

Within the static filled view of the screen there was a circular purple curtain. The purple screen was decorated with the same little star shapes and sparkles that you could find all the way around the pizzeria. In front of it was a small wooden looking sign with the words; ‘Sorry! Out of Order’ in a black font. If the brunette security guard narrowed his emerald gaze enough he could just about make out the same little star pattern engraved on the small wooden sign.

Was that what he was looking for? The fourth mysterious character? Mike tilted his head a tad to the side, he would keep an eye on it from time to time, however right now the big rip off character from Sesame Street was on the move and he had to be ready. He switched the video feed to another camera, back to the party room, and gave a sigh of relief once he noticed that Chica hadn’t gone walking any deeper into the place. However what he did find odd was that Bonnie had also crept into the room without his knowledge and now he stood facing the big yellow bird (and visa verse) couple of steps away. Mike huffed slightly in confusion, what were they doing? Plotting? Gambling on who would kill him first? The new security guard shook his head, that couldn’t be possible, they might be killer robots but they were not intelligent enough to do that. Plus they were very old, from the nineties a least, so they weren’t as advanced as the computers and technology that was roaming around today.

Mike shifted a little, adjusting his shirt that had become clammy and stuck to his skin in an awkward position, he cringed as the fabric rubbed against his back. He also flicked off his dark blue uniform hat, letting his sweat drenched curly hair free to limp against his scalp. Lightly tanned fingers ran through them quickly, undoing the tangles before placing the piece of uniform back on top of his head. Without the constant annoyance of the fan humming away, the cramped box like office got warm very quickly- winter be damned.

Once adjusted and comfortable he let his emerald orbs fall back to the screen. He startled, his eyes going wide and a bead of sweat tumbled down his temple. They were gone! Both of them! The curly haired brunette searched frantically and found that they were in two different rooms on opposite sides of the building. Bonnie was in the supply closet to the west of him, looking up at the camera with sunken crimson eyes that were half lidded. On the other hand Chica wasn’t actually visible, however as Mike switched around to the viewpoints a couple of times, light green orbs flittering around nervously as he selected the right one he suddenly came up with a blank black screen with lines of static running across it. In blocky white letters that were displayed amongst the disoriented screen read; ‘Audio Only’ and Mike could just about pick up the clanging noises of pans being clunk together by big uncooperative jagged metallic wings.

The curly haired security guard breathed hard and calmed himself from his tense positive, making his back muscles relax. They were close, but all he had to do was switch between those two points, keep an eye on them and close the doors in case any trouble came knocking, that was i-

As if on cue, a loud echoed song bounced down the hallway and into the cramped dusty office. A mixture of off note beats that vibrated and Mike had to contain the squeak of fright that had clawed up his throat. Where did that from? Lightly tanned fingers glided across the screen until they finally reached the purple circular curtain of Pirate Cove.

His heart thumped out of time when he saw it, and his face quickly went from a healthy tan to a sickly ghost white colour. The short pants of calmed breathing became jerky and his chest burned as it heaved. A single huge metallic claw had pulled the purple sparkly curtain apart and a tattered furry red head had popped out since the camera had last viewed it. It looked like a coyote or a wolf with a big gapping jaw that looked unhinged and broken. A black eye patch was present on the animatronic animal, slightly over one brow and it had a sharp hook that glinted threateningly under the dull lights behind it. The big red furry head was tilted to one side to look up at the camera.

And it was staring at him with glowing murderous eyes.          


	9. Nueve

Large fake eyes glared at him from the gloomy abyss of the spacious room, glowing brightly with a murderous glint. A sharp shiny hook raised at the ready, tiny droplets of clotted crimson giving it a faded tinged. Unhinged and broken, a large gapping mouth hung open, showing off razor like teeth. The melody continued, jerky and off tune with the same beat all over again.

**_Dum Dum De Dum Dum Dum De Dum Dum Dum De Dum Dum Dum De Dum Dum Dum De Dum_ **

Mike swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly dry and breathed in harshly through his nose. He resisted the urge that was itching at the back of his skull to shut both industrial steel doors, to hide curled up under the dusty spider web infested desk and to cover his ears while slowly rocking himself in the gloom; like a possessed little girl that you would see in a cliché horror. The security guard shook his head quickly, his curls hanging limp under his dark blue uniform hat, _do not think about possessed children while rampaging robots are trying to kill you._

**_Dum Dum De Dum Dum Dum De Dum Dum Dum De Dum Dum Dum De Dum Dum Dum De Dum_ **

**_Stop it._ **

Mike clenched his eyes shut with a grimace, his teeth grit and he shook his head at a harsher speed. It echoed in his head, bouncing from wall to wall, louder and louder with each off tune repeat. Ragged jerked panting of air quickened, the rising and falling of his small chest hastened, struggling to keep up with the harsh panicked breathing. Nervous stressed sweat slicked his skin and dried causing his clothes to cling uncomfortably close to his ruined flesh. Burning sensations crawled at the skin of his back and the shallow freshly covered wounds stung agonisingly with a deep scorching feeling that made him want to sink his blunt nails to pull-    

**_Dum Dum De Dum Dum Dum De Dum Dum Dum De Dum Dum Dum De Dum Dum Dum De Dum_ **

**_STOP IT._ **

He choked, stray saliva clogging up his throat and he beat his bony fist against the old grey desk. A cough escaped his trembling lips and he heaved dryly, the sickening dull click that sounded in the silent room barely registered in his panicked mind (was it from the desk or his fist?). He needed to calm down, he needed to-

**_Dum Dum De Dum Dum Dum De Dum Dum Dum De Dum Dum Dum De Dum Dum Dum De Dum_ **

Blunt finger nails scraped his bare lightly tanned arms, digging into the raw flesh harshly. Vaguely the security guard felt something wet splash onto his fingers and he shook, his lips curling up to tremble weakly.

**_Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stopitstopitstopitstopitstopitstopitstopitstopitstopitstopitstopitstopit_ **

It was doing it on purpose, he noted at the back of his rattling mind, and he ripped his clawed hands away from his slender arms. A scream of agony tore from his stinging throat and emerald eyes flashed open, orbs a moist red. He clutched at his chest, his heart meeting him by hitting him back and his blurry focus fell on the sleek black tablet. The large glowing eyes glared back, burning a permanent image into his brain whilst the song continued. _Why did it sound so familiar?_

Mike swatted shakily at the screen and affectively switched to another grainy image of the camera, back to the dimly lit room of the stage. The image of the blazing orbs peering out of the abyss disappeared from his mind’s eye and the cacophony of notes quietened significantly. He tore off his dark blue uniform cap and throw it in the general direction of the cracked back wall, allowing his sweaty squished limp curls to spring free in a dishevelled fashion. Tugging on a chocolate strand absentmindedly, he attempted to calm himself.

Wiping his red glazed orbs, he started with his harsh jagged breathing, slowing it down from its uneven pace to a regular pattern that allowed his heart to cope with the stress. His tense stance relaxed (just a tad, he was still in danger after all) and he erratically sighed deeply, _having a panic attack will not keep you alive for very long if you keep it up._

Two sets of heavy metallic footsteps echoed from both sides of him and Mike snapped into attention. He set his bright green eyes on the west door to peer out into the gloom and shoved the light button. As usual the dim light flickered and the familiar silhouette of Bonnie appeared out of the void of darkness, huge purple paws raised in an attack stance. A hoarse scream ripped from trembling lips and a shaky hand slammed down to shut the steel doors. Jerky steps brought him to the other side and he whacked the twin door button, a relived feeling washing through him as he heard the wheeze of the door descending to the tiled floor. With a flicker of the lights, Mike spotted the giant yellow chicken pressing herself up to the glass of the window, fake pink irises wide and orange beak open to yet again to reveal the second row of horrifically human looking blunt teeth.

Mike avoided looking at her for very long, and was thankful that the dim lights only flickered on for a very short period of time before plunging back into the darkness. He stood there for a moment, the situation slowly sinking in to his adrenaline filled brain, was he forgetting something? His head was fuzzy, like his head had been stuffed with cotton…

_The power limit!_

He jerked his body into moment and grasped the tablet with white trembling desperate fingers, he hissed when he saw how close he was; fifteen percentage at half five in the morning.

Swiftly, he switched on the light for the western door and opened it once he saw that there was nobody to be found lurking in the shadows. The door ascended with an old tired wheeze and Mike checked the crackling camera feed on the smooth black tablet (after flicking the light on for Chica’s door and still seeing her pressed up against the bullet proof glass, he left the door how it was despite his mind screaming at him for the lack of power).  

Mike switched from camera to camera and he froze still in his rusty seat, back stiff and left wide panicked eyes twitching slightly. He blinked numerous times, trying to stop the disturbing images flying in front of his eyes.

All along the chip painted dull wall were the words; ‘IT’S ME’ in scratchy black hand writing, the creepy posters that promoted the pizzeria along the dimly light hallways were switched to newspaper clippings, each giving graphic distressing detail of the horrors inside, the near silence of the place changed the sound of giggling little girl. _Lucy?_ White spots invaded his vision, the office blurred together in a mixture of dark colours. The flashes came next, images (memories?) swept across his light green hazy gaze…..A girl……A gravestone……A beer bottle……Red…..Red……RedRedRedRed-!

A flash of gold caught the corner of his eye and he pinned himself against the back wall, feeling the sweat covered uniform cling to his skin and the outlines of the cracks that were engraved in the plaster. He squeezed the hat that he had thrown at the wall earlier, knuckles white, a wet substance dripping down his arm and his vision melted into black.

The last thing he heard was the cold shriek of a child’s hatred and sorrow.

      


	10. Diez

A soft warm cocoon of blankets wrapped around his trembling form was the first thing that Mike noticed upon waking. Fluffy cyan blue pillows cushioned his head, fully resting his wounded neck comfortably and the comfy large mattress supported his back securely- so unlike the lumpy cramped bed that he had at the cheap small studio apartment that he was currently renting, the one that if you moved an inch a large metal spring would uncoil itself to jab you in the side.

Blurry orbs opened, glazed over with sleep and tired floppy digits immediately went to clear away the annoying crusts that stuck to his eyelashes. A cotton feeling brushed his eyelid and Mike looked down at his tanned hands in surprise. They both had white clean bandages bound up tight from the beginning of his forearms at his wrist and stopped at the crook of his elbow. Wrapped around his fist protectively was a sleeve, the metal splint leaning against his slightly swollen thumb. Mike swallowed dryly, trying to work his jaw properly with a perched throat. He reached up with a lightly tanned hand and rubbed his spindly fingers across the area where his Adams Apple was located, however he stopped when he felt the stretched gauze wrapped around his delicate skin.

 _Where was he?_ The last thing the brunette could remember was- He shuddered, his body trembling further and he gripped the edge of one of the blankets in a harsh grasp, his finger nails gone from a healthy pink colour to a pale white. Clenching his eyes shut, Mike shook his head roughly, however grimaced when he felt the tender aching feeling radiate in his skull. His head felt heavy and pulsing, throbbing as a supposed side effect of a substantial drinking binge in the form of a hang over- but that was ridiculous, Mike hadn’t touched a single drop of alcohol since-.

The young male turned his head (being mindful of the bandages) and smashed his head into the colourful green pillow next to him, a scowl gracing his lips as he rejected the mental imagery that he was bombarded with. Why couldn’t he forget? Why? Why? **_Why?_** What evil deprived things did he do in a previous life to deserve such harsh treatment in this one?

Moister built up behind his thin protective lids and he grit his teeth together bitterly, breathing huffs of unsettled air between them. A scrunched up hand squeezed the wrinkled sheets and a spark of pain shot up his arm, making his shoulder twitch with the shock. He opened his eyes and blinked back the wetness that threatened to spill over. For a pregnant pause Mike just lay there, breathing in deeply through clamped teeth which shook slightly as his chest jerked. In the deep dark corners of his mind, melancholy thoughts were wrestled into his frontal focus. _He couldn’t do this anymore. My sister; my poor Lucy-._

Mike sunk deeper into the soft dip of the pillow and shifted his body weight a tad under the mounded folds of fluffy coverings. A tight feeling around his chest and a pinching at his back area caused him to alarm slightly. He immediately jolted his body forward off the comfortable warm bed, the duvet tumbling to the floor in a heap, his bare feet hitting the baby blue carpet with a soft _thump_ and he looked down at himself. Nothing covered his bottom half apart from the boxers that he had put on the day before, leaving his legs bare. On his top half there was an extra-large baggy t-shirt that reached all the way down to the bottom of his knees. It was dark blue (am I sensing a pattern here?) with the words; ‘When global warming hits, swimmers will rule the world’ in large white bold font. The brunette leaned his nose to lightly sniff the hem of it, it was washed; it smelt of floral washing detergent and his own clean sweat. Pulling it up, he discovered that the majority of the wrappings were curled around his body was around the damaged flesh of his back.

Crimson blood froze in his burning adrenaline filled veins and his breathing picked up, his heart pounding a mile a minute. With shaking fingers he grasped the white wrappings on his skin and ripped them apart, catching the long frayed strands. Clotted cherry red speck riddled the otherwise pure snowy white fabric and a cold nervous sweat dripped down his body is small wet trails. He brushed across every available patch of flesh, his panic sinking into chest. _Had the scars reopened?! When- How-Could they-_

A noise caught his attention, the squeaking sound of a door closing on its hinges and the several quiet footsteps that followed after. Mike tensed, hands stationary on his mangled flesh. _He may had not of been killed by lunatic rampaging robots, but the person who had brought him here- he didn’t know them, at least not very well, **and they had seen his back**. _ He cast his emerald gaze around the unfamiliar room, soaking up the unique features of it fleetingly. The bed he had been lying on was in the centre of the room; the first thing you would see upon entering the room, a desk was a few steps away facing the green wall, rolled up pieces of paper covering the wooden surface along with a couple of stray pens scattered and a wardrobe in the not so distant corner. Other objects were also scattered around the room, such as a few electrical devices (a very distant part of him flared up with intense jealousy at the discovery of those) and numerous equipment used for sport.      

The nob of the door twisted with a rattle and Mike flew into action, his tense bandaged covered body leaping and grasping the nearest object in a clammy grip; a red flamed designed electrical guitar controller. With that armed in his trembling hold, he raised it over his shoulder like a baseball player would do with a bat and waited.

The door opened from its closed position to reveal…


	11. Once

Mike felt himself freeze even further and he clenched the plastic flame red guitar controller tighter in his clammy, sickly white finger tipped grip. The crimson speckled soft cotton wrappings draped around him on the floor a sloppy circle and the nervous sweat dripping down his body continued, his back flaring up in scorching agony as the salty liquid trickled down to mix with the newly (possible) open gashes on his damaged flesh. Adrenaline burned in his frozen up veins, throbbing gently (much the pounding in his skull) under the flushed skin and he felt his spastically beating heart crawl up his parched throat.        

A tall figure stood in the open doorway, their stance leaning back in a slouched position and long slender arms crossed over a broad chest. Bright blue eyes held a serious glint to them as stared into Mike’s own wide light green, one ebony eyebrow raised quizzically and thin pale lips set into a straight firm line.

“I’m not down playing your weapon or anything, but I would have gone with the baseball bat- or at least the hockey stick.” A head bobbed to the side, causing the long ebony side fringe to flop somewhat in front of the inquiring blue orbs and effectively pointing out the better defensive tools on the other side of the room.

The voice was deep, a relaxing baritone that made Mike want to melt slightly into a puddle where he stood and he blinked rapidly for a few seconds when he noticed how much of a calming effect it on him. It sounded like he had heard it before, it was familiar, wh-

**_Jack_ **

Mike relaxed his stance from its rigid position, bones clicking together oddly at the sudden change and he dropped the flame decorated controller out of his clammy clawed grip onto the mess of mounted blankets behind him. He swallowed drily, forcing his heart to slide back down back into its cage as it slowed down significantly from its humming birds pace. A gasping dry noise escaped his parched lips and he recoiled when he heard how raspy his voice came out.

The other male, now leaning fully on the doorframe, must have witnessed the surprise on his lightly tanned face because he shrugged his shoulder into the direction of the beds side table where a single clear glass of water laid- along with a couple of white capsules that were beside it (how hadn’t he seen them before?).

Gingerly, he picked it up in his moist shaking hands and brought the glass to his dehydrated lips, supping quickly and sighing as his desiccated throat was cleared with a burst of freshness. He stopped when he got to the pills, the little white capsules just sitting there on the wooden surface innocently and he gently prodded it with the top of his fingertip, as if it would snap out of its harmless façade to bite him like a cornered feral beast. With one fleeting glance up, Mike cast a look at his…..Friend (?) and he was taken aback by what he saw.

Jack stood there, no longer leaning back lazily against the wooden door frame, with his back straight and shoulders squared. Slender arms were no longer around his broad chest, instead they were by his side, an unhealthy pale (which was even paler than his skin complexion before, an impressive feat indeed) and clenched tightly. The usual playful glint was gone from his orbs, they were clouded over with a deep fob of seriousness and flaring….Anger?

Mike inhaled deeply through his nose shakily and took a step back, kicking away the soft cherry coloured splashed bandages that got tangled up on his feet, making his movements jerkily unsteady. Upon seeing the uncoordinated actions of the smaller the furious mist lifted from Jacks blue eyes and softened.

“You don’t have to worry about the meds, they just help with the pain. There is nothing suspicious going on, you can trust me.” Jack cast his gaze over him, going over the tightly wrapped white bandages on his neck, arms, fist and the big tangled up pool of cotton that rested in a sloppy circle by his feet.

Mike shifted, bare toes digging into the soft baby blue carpet and his body further relaxing for the initial frightful panic. The adrenaline burning through his system had been gradually worn off since the safety of the place around him was known, the hot throbbing quality had stopped however was soon replaced by the excruciating pain that infested his flushed flesh like a virus on a computer. He grabbed the pills on the wooden surface, grateful that it was clean, and swallowed them both along with a gulp of water.

Numbness settled into his body quickly and he sat down heavily on the soft bed, sighing deeply as the agony completely vanished from his system- after so long! He slowly slipped his eyes closed, the most relaxed he had been since Ra knew how long and he let himself to fall back onto the soft spongy mattress. Distantly, he heard the other taller man walk further into the messy room, stop haltingly, before sitting down next to him -judging by the slight dip in the bed as a shadow fell onto his red lid covered vision.

“Mike.”

His voice sounded odd, the calm baritone wavering shakily, the total opposite to the melt-like-better-voice that Mike had begrudgingly got used to; it didn’t sound right. A natural frown slipped on his face and Mike reopened his light green eyes. He blinked at the image in front of him: Jack was sitting next to him on the bed, back slouched forward and his pale slim face was scrunched up in a fashion that the brunette had never seen before. The bright blue eyes that the other possessed was glazed over once more, only this time instead of the pain promising anger, it was once of sadness. Looking further down the other man’s body it became apparent to Mike that a knuckle white grip was on the tattered fabric of the wrapping that had been torn off of his body in a flash of panic and as of that moment -completely forgotten.              

His gut felt tight, curling and coiling around itself into knots and weighing heavily in his abdomen, his breathing pattern stuttered and his emerald orbs widened into saucers.

_He-he had seen his back… He had seen the damage……The scars…… **The words** …._

Mike clamped his down his lightly tanned hands into fists, blunt nails digging into the soft tight wrappings around his skin and he scooted his body closer to the head board at the top of the bed.

The ebony haired man moved so that he was facing his direction, swinging his legs around so that he sat crossed legged in a sort of Indian style, the same look of misted sadness clear in his facial features, “Please tell me what happened.”

**_No._ **

Mike shook his head vigorously, chocolate curls swotting at him in the face and he forced his numb painless body closer to the headboard. Moister pricked at the back of his wide orbs and the tell-tale sign of the continuous echoed pounding in his skull started.

“You can tell me.”

**_No. I wanted to forget. Don’t make him remember- not now- nor ever-!_ **

Gritting his teeth roughly, with a sharp noise emitting from them as they were firmly place together, Mike breathed out through them hard.

“Please.”

More hair whipped at his face as he shook his head yet again and he clinched his eyes back shut as bright flashes of memories (dreams? Imagination?) sank into his vision. A sob escaped his trembling lips and his breathing stuttered as his chest heaved to combat the mass of tears that threatened to fall. **_Jack was the closest thing he has ever had to a real friend in years, if he even caught a glimpse of his past he would run for the hills. He would hate him, for what he did…_**   

Suddenly a warm solid object made gentle contact with his cheek and Mike blinked in confusion as he watched a slender pale finger trail its way across his flushed cheeks, wiping away the salty liquid that had trickled its way down there. It circled around his eyes before a tender hand cupped one of his cheeks to divert his glazed over focus to the blue orbs in front of him that was stormy with different emotions, each battling their way to become the most dominant.

As soon as the pale hand had made contact with his skin, the continuous echoing pounding that rattled off the walls of his skull and the bright flashing imagines stopped. It was quiet, a silence that swirled around in his mind and Mike’s eyes widened when he noticed it. He sniffed and swallowed shakily, a calm hand now soothing the tangled mad scientist’s hairdo that had become an unfortunate normality in his everyday life.

“I won’t hate you, whatever happened I am here for you, just….Please-,“Jack stopped, readjusting the gentle hold that he had on the brunettes head and swallowed unevenly, “I just want to know why you have….Those. They were different from the other wounds that you had gained from you night shift, they were older and more- more purposefully placed.”

The hands started trembling as he only achieved a tear filled stare, “Please, whatever it was, it wasn’t your fault- I just- I just care about you…”

More confusion seeped into Mike, he…He wasn’t at fault? How could he possibly know? How- Wait- He cares?

Blinking away the wetness that stilled continued to fall, Mike nodded his head the tiniest bit in agreement. He licked his quaking lips, yes… Yes, he will tell his story, because someone cared for him enough to hold him as he cried.

_Just like her._


	12. Doce

_Clammy palms steadied themselves against the cracked mirror, the sweat circling the delicate pads making them slip and leave finger prints over the reflective surface. Two black trainer clad feet stood separated slightly, keeping the figure that they were steadying grounded to the floor like an anchor. The body facing the mirror was shaky, jerky gasps hissing out between clenched teeth and a pair of young misted over eyes analysed the flickering emotions that were fleeting across the tanned features. Livid scarlet cheeks puffed out with each lung full, nostrils flared, slim shoulders were straight and wiry muscles shook from the tenseness of the owner’s anger._

**_He has gone too far._ **

_The hands on the mirror curled into fists, bones rising up under the bruised skin and veins popping out from under the pink heated flesh. With a hard heavily heaved sigh that escaped out of the angrily flared nostrils and a clench of the delicate protective lids that fell crumpled in front of the boy’s eyes, he backed away from the neglected sink that he had tensely been hovering over. A quick flicker of a look to the left, and he nearly bared his teeth in a snarl like an overprotective wild animal._

_Not too far away from the rigid figure was another, they were slightly taller and older- by just about two years. Clothes were dishevelled; their light blue demin over shirt and floral under top had been made creased by a certain grasping brutal meaty fist. Their long blond hair was unusually messy, the usual straight strands had become tangled and matted. And delicately done mascara dried in horrid thick black smudges while a slender, feminine hand cupped around an inflamed cheek, the red soreness had spread across the light skin to be seen clearly in the artificial light of the blue sailor themed bathroom._

_Emotions flooded through the male and threatened to spill over as a million of thoughts whizzed across his brain, each provoking a promise of murder in the most agonising of ways. It had been three years since their mother had died, it had been very soon-much too soon. Her soul was claimed and taken away from the earth by cancer, the disease wasn’t identified in time to be treated successfully, and therefore it was only a matter of time before Death had come to escort her to the afterlife._

_It was devastating for her family. And it was just as devastating for the other people to watch._

_The death of Mrs Schmidt had been overwhelming to the rest of the family she had unwillingly left behind: her fifteen year old son Mike, her seventeen year old daughter Lucy and the love of her life Markus who she had been married too for twenty years. It had been hard on everyone and they had developed their own survival methods to escape the pain that the memories bought- some of them more self-destructive then others. Mike found that it helped to escape into a world of fantasy; reading and writing took up most of his time, anything to lose touch with reality that could easily be accomplished with a turning of a glossy cover or a scratch of a pen on paper. His sister Lucy buried herself in her work and blocked out the world around her with noise cancelling headphones that blasted whatever song that she wanted in dangerously high frequencies, overworking herself before eventually causing stress introducing insomnia that plagued her nights. On the other hand, after his beloved died, Markus had hit the bottle- **hard**. Spending more time out in the pubs until the small hours of the morning instead of spending time with the rest his crumbling and equally distressed family. Coming home at ridiculous hours, stumbling to his house (it was no longer a home; it didn’t have enough happiness or love to be classified as one, the building blocks to a happy normal family had toppled over and scattered, just leaving three people who live in a house together, off into their own worlds, oblivious to each other) in an intoxicated haze, throwing slurred insults laced with colourful, vulgar language and raising a firm hand to anyone (mostly Lucy, as she would whiz past him throughout the night, anxiously pacing the hallway, once vibrant eyes dim and bagged, fiddling with things as she attempted to keep her mind off sleep) who came in between him and his vice to cope with the crippling numbness that crept up into him. _

_On that particular night, Mike had been awake, sitting stiffly at his small work desk, dim green eyes glazed with a Steven King novel lying open over the graffiti covered wooden table top. His mind had already been swept away into his little bubble, his happy place where he could imagine that he could control things with his mind too, just like the girl he was reading about in the book he was reading. Random thoughts flounced into his mind, giving him even more adventures that he could gleefully go through within his little bubble. Some of them made him giggle slightly, making him seem like to any on looker a total crackpot **but he was happy**. With images of his mother still being alive, his sister happy and him with the ability to keep them safe- back in a time where he didn’t know how much destruction his father could make or even an alternate universe were he didn’t have thoughts of murdering his father in very many different interesting ways as possible. _

_All the while, in the outside world he sat oblivious to his deteriorating health. Sweat clung to his young skin, day’s old clothes hanging wrinkled over his poorly looked after body, his cheeks hollow from lack of nourishment. Under the baggy black material of his t-shirt his ribs had become more pronounced, the clammy skin had grown tighter without the calories that his body needed to function probably and the knuckle bones in his hands had become more noticeable. Darkened chocolate curls hugged the clammy skin of his forehead, the grease that coated the thick strands having an odd wet look to it from under a hastily shoved on black beanie that was covered with sassy jokes and funny references from the buttons that were pinned onto the knitted fabric._

_As he had continued to read, scanning the pages with red rimmed eyes, he had felt his body get heavier, shoulders slumping from their usual stiff, alert stance and his unwashed face slowly got inched towards the desk, left cheek resting against the thin worn pages and eyes unwillingly closing as his nose started to rest against the dog-eared yellowed paper. That’s when a noise had echoed through the quiet house, the sharp sound that you would find when skin hit each other with a force and a strangled gasp of shock. It had popped his bubble, the innocent images in his minds- eye that finally had him off to much needed sleep and it had sent him into the harsh cold numbness that reality had brought. The calm blanket that had kept him safe had been unravelled and a bumpy wave of nausea hit him like a ton of bricks._

_Another series of sounds had him clawing away from his cluttered desk, his shaky legs unbalanced and his small body swaying as if he was at sea. A shatter of a bottle reached his ears, the glass shards tinkling on a hard surface, followed by a few muffled curses and the panicked zig zagging of hurried light footsteps tripping over themselves as they clambered up the stairs. They ended as they got to the landing, the sound of lungs giving harsh breathes leaking in under his bedroom door and a thump as if something hit the wall with some weight. All the while the string of loud slurs that erupted from down stairs continued, followed by the occasional few knocks and shatters._

 


	13. Trece

_As soon as he heard the strangled stuttering gasps of harsh breathing and the tell-tale thump of something hard meeting the cream coloured wall of the landing, he stumbled, almost drunkenly to the source of the noise. Black trainer clad feet hit the dark red carpet clumsily, legs shaking and clammy, almost skeletal hands grasped the slim doorknob. It swung open after a few seconds of jostling, his hands being too slippery to grab the smooth metal and the hinges being stiff from lack of use. His glazed eyes started to water as he stepped out of the room after God knows how long and it left his vision blurry, the artificial light almost blinding him. Eventually, spots of colour started to seep into the warped imagery that his eyes had captured and as the splashes reconnected to each other, almost like pieces of a puzzle completing a picture, what he saw in front of him made his blood boil._

_His sister, Lucy, was leaning against the wall, somewhere between sitting and crouching, her blond head tilted up to the naked light bulb that was hanging above the steep stairs. Mike could see the bones in his neck and throat moving as she panted raggedly, her chest trembling as she choked out hearse coughs. Her eyes (usually so bright, burning with intelligence and coloured blue with flecks of grey) were wide, almost popping out of their delicate sockets, red rimmed and with huge black bags hanging close to the lids. One feminine hand clutched the nearby door frame in a death grip, tense bones visible, fingertips snow white and nails with chipped off pale pink paint. The other was grasping at her enflamed cheek protectively, the bright sore redness leaking out between the flared out fingertips and black sludge clung to her eyelashes, some of it leaving dark watery trails down her heated flesh._

_Mike opened his mouth and tried to get his parched throat to work. A few odd clicks and croaks winded their way out of his dry lips, before he finally snapped them shut. He ran his tongue over his lips, wetting the rough grooves and cracks as he got the feeling back into his legs. Shots of pain had started to develop in his feet however he ignored it, overlooking it as he felt his face flush, his veins surging with an addictive burning feeling, his teeth (he had ran those over with his tongue too, they felt furry and wrong in his mouth. When was the last time he brushed them?) gritting harshly and his bony hands naturally forming into fists. What had happened to his sister? She hadn’t looked so detached from life when he last saw her… Wait. When was the last time he saw her?_

_He knelt beside her, his knees clicking as he descended to the carpet, and he put his steady hand on her tense one that was gripping the wall with an edgy hold. Mike could feel her trembling and he looked into her wide unblinking eyes. She stared back, her eyes misted over with unfallen tears and the spark of light that he knew that she once held was no were to be seen under the murky abyss of grieving stress. A spark of rage ran through his body like an electrical shot, and it must have shown on his face because as his face hardened, Lucy shrank back with her bottom lip stuck in between her teeth._

_With a gulp and a heavily heaved sigh to calm himself down, Mike calmed himself enough to wipe his face clean of his emotions. He guided her to the bathroom that she nearly made it to before her legs gave out on her and gently sat her on the closed lid of the toilette. Wetting a couple of tissues in the yellowing sink (Mike didn’t even want to know about the hygiene in that place of all places) he gave them to her and she placed them on her crimson marked flesh. She gave him a small trembling smile._

_“Thank you.”_

_A hard breath got forced out of his flared nostrils and his grit teeth clenched tighter. Oh, he wished he could smile back, he wished he could smile back at his sister, but this wasn’t **her**. Before his mother had died, before they had done this to themselves, she would have snorted at him, said something sarcastic about his hair; anything with a little bit of fight. And he would have replied with one of his own, a hissed remark about her make-up and a tongue sticking out at her childishly because, well, **he was her little brother**. Where was the feisty blond that would fight over the remote with him? The one who would call him an idiot and smack him slightly on the back of the head? He took another glance at her, taking in the messy hair, smudged make-up, hunched over figure and glazed over eyes. The teenager shook his head; this was not her. _

_That’s when he glanced at the mirror above the sink from the corner of his eye and nearly gapped in horror. What had happened to him? How…_

_Fleetingly he took in his appearance, his clammy hands on the mirrors surface, leaving his sweaty prints all over the otherwise clean surface. The anger he had repressed earlier had come back at tenfold and he anchored himself to the floor with his covered feet. Shaky, jerky gasps hissed out between clenched teeth and he looked into his reflections eyes analysed the flickering emotions that were fleeting across the tanned features. Livid scarlet cheeks puffed out with each lung full, nostrils flared, slim shoulders were straight and wiry muscles shook from the tenseness of the owner’s anger._

_One thought made it through the twirling enraged thoughts bouncing around inside of his skull; **he has gone too far. It was his father’s fault. It had to be. He had hit his only daughter for the sake of a bottle. He was the rat that jumped from the sinking ship, he was the one who buried himself within his own intoxicated haze first. It was his job to protect us and to keep us together; it was his job to be our father. He broke his promise as a parent.**_

_Angry, salty tears slipped down his red hot cheeks and he snarled like a **fucking animal**. All he knew now that it was all his fath- (no, he didn’t deserve that title), that it was all Markus’s fault and that his fist tingled like it wanted to punch something. The mirror chose to be his target, bringing his clammy fist into its surface and causing a tiny chip to appear. It had felt good. So **good.** He did it again. And again. And **again**. Until it shattered, the jagged shards twinkling as they hit the porcelain of the old sink. _

_A wicked smirk twisted at the edge of his lips, the burning feeling in his vein giving an addictive throb and his fist red pulsed within the same rhythm of his heartbeat. But it wasn’t **enough**. **He needed more.**_

_Without a thought he was already swinging the bathroom door open and descending the stairs two at a time, the coiled smirk still on his features. When he finally reached the living room, a wave of nausea and repulsion soured within him. It was a mess. The air alone in the room was stale and smelt thickly of liquor. Random piles of shattered glass were all over the place along with dozens and dozens of glass brown bottles. All over the floor. On the sofa’s. Even on the television stand. They were everywhere. And in the middle of chaos, like a dragon on top of its horde of gold was his fa- Markus with a beer bottle in one hand and a cigarette in between his unshaven lips. Collecting all the energy that he had, Mike surged forward through the piles of bottles and brought his fist to meet Markus’s chin, giving him a swift upper cut._

_After that, it seemed to go in slow motion._

_He saw Markus’s head knock backwards, his cigarette falling onto the carpet and a string of slurred courses left his lips. However as Mike dived in to give another blow to the man who used to be his father, Markus seemed to have recollected himself (which was quite amazing in his drunken state and in such a short amount of time) and had gotten to his feet, swinging an empty bottle in his direction with his meaty hands. Mike managed to duck just in time, however he didn’t have the time to see where his target was in his field of vision and he stumbled back with a cry of pain as a knee came into contact with his stomach._

_“You son of a bitch!”_

_Markus seemed to roar out loud, his words jumbled and his tongue rolling as he struggled to get the sentence to make sense with his slurs. The teenager sprawled out of the dirty carpet just had enough time to look up before another knee smashed into his face, sending him reeling and his vision blurry. Vaguely, he felt a pair of strong hands grasp his collar and throw him against the nearest wall, his head crashing into the brick and making black splotches appear before his eyes. The burning feeling was still present in his veins and his breathing came out in long wheezy gasps. His head felt weird, like it had been packed with cotton wool, and the view of the living room before him seemed to warp together into a twirling mesh of colours._

_A sudden shout was heard over the constant ringing in his ears and he forced his glazed eyes to open (when had he shut them?). In the door way, with a determined look on her features was Lucy, his sister, her petite hands curled into fists and a stance that made her look ready for an attack._

_“Stop!” She yelled, (did she yell it? Everything sounded so muffled to him) and she slammed her own fist into her father, “You have done enough already!”_

_Mike could have cheered, his sister was back, his old sister that he loved, not the shivering ball of mess that had been the first thing he had seen upon returning to reality. But the next thing stopped him from doing so._

_Markus blocked the attempt easily, holding both of her wrists with one hand and curling his other around her neck, tightening it as he did so. Lucy struggled to get away but it was no use and her father pushed her against the wall, his hold still digging tightly on her throat and the back of her skull connecting with the tough brick. Her eyes rolled back into her sockets and as Markus let her limp body go to the floor like a rag doll, a trail of sticky crimson followed her down the wallpaper._

_Mike felt a scream crawl out of dry throat, “No! Lucy!”_

_He forced his body up, his head light, his eyes barely open and he ran at Markus’s back, sending a quick jab of his elbow in between his shoulder blades. The towering fat body fell to the floor on his knees and Mike smacked his head face forward to the floor. As Markus laid flat out on his stomach, Mike didn’t even give him a glance before crawling to his sister’s aid with heavy limbs. However before he even started to check her pulse and breathing a strong hand grabbed his ankle._

_A yelp tugged out of his lips as he was thrown in the opposite direction of his sister and into a large pile of broken brown glass. Mike screamed as he felt every single needle point stab into the vulnerable flesh of his back, creating large wet welts and a scorching agony ripped through him. He felt warm sticky liquid trickle out of the split skin of his back and mix with the salt that had dried on his body from days without showering, introducing more pain as he tried to wiggle away._

_A shadow fell across from his and he looked up to see Markus, his eyes unfocused and bring a heavy boot down onto his stomach, forcing each and every glass shard to go deeper into him. The black spots were back and Mike raked his nails into Markus’s leg, begging to let him **go** , to let him **live**.        _

**_But he didn’t listen._ **

_Mike could feel a puddle forming underneath him now, staining the dirty carpet a brilliant crimson colour and the more he fought, the more glass wedged in, sinking deeper into his body to almost reach the bones. His breathing had slowed a lot by then, the panted wheezes going fainter and the last thing he saw before he fell into oblivion was the single cigarette that Markus had dropped to the carpeted floor, smouldering._


	14. Catorce

“I’m sorry.”

Those two single words was the only thing that broke the mournful and intense silence that had settled thickly inside of the room. Even the noises in his head had stopped, the rattling screams of agony and the harsh slurred words of hatred had ceased bouncing off the walls of his skull, the memories that burned their way into his brain, festering inside the weakest creases of his fragile sanity. It had stopped once Jack had wiped the tears that had unwillingly fallen from his watering eyes, the tender caring glint in his bright beautiful blue eyes calming him from his panicked state, the stare creating a warm tingling feeling in his stomach, a red tint to graze over his cheeks and-

A heavy sigh was heaved hard through his crinkled nose, his nostrils flaring and his thin cracked lips twitching into a downward position. What was he doing? He was like a twelve year old girl that was obsessing over her first crush on one the popular guys at school in her pink glitter covered diary, confessing her love with little hearts dotted around the edges of the paper and sloppily writing down cringe worthy poetry about how their eyes ‘sparkled’ in the light. Well- Jack’s eyes _did_ sparkle- but that was beside the point. And anyway, despite being into sports, Jack didn’t seem to be one of the idiotic ‘jocks’ that were all muscle and no brain. To Mike, he struck him as the hyperactive clown of the class that fired jokes at the one supple teacher that suspiciously looked like Santa and would randomly take mince pies out of his pockets during lessons (don’t ask). In a nutshell, he was different. So… Shut up.

The thumb on his cheek delicately stroking his soft flesh brought him back and the ebony haired male sitting Indian style in front of him had his pale lips quirked into an odd awkward sympathetic smile.  

“This might be a stupid question for this situation but, are you alright?” The lanky pale hand the bird’s nest that he had to call hair moved, affectionately stroking through the rough bed wrangled tangles and lightly massaging his scalp with the pads of his digits.

Mike nearly damn _purred_ in pure bliss under the soothing touches, it was the first time in years that someone had comforted him. Thinking back, the last time someone had rubbed his head like this when he grew full blown migraines that radiated from the base of his skull and felt like a sledge hammer pounding against his brain was when he studied for the exams that had cropped up on his timetable.

He would always visit his mother when he was hurting, it was selfish of his to do so, as he knew she was in pain too however as she cradled his head like she had done in his youth it made the slowly sinking feeling in his chest seem more manageable. To remember the soft cold fingertips needle his head with nails that were once so long but were now so short and _breakable_ from chemo. Her skin a sickly pale colour with an eerie green tint to it, her pretty long hair (Lucy had inherited it from her, free from **_Markus’s side_** of the family curse of boring brown frizzy curls that never did what they were told) completely gone, her eyes holding no spark of life with the big black bags underneath them, giving them a hollow look, the long loving smile would always grace her pastel lips when she saw him visiting was non-existent, it instead was replaced by a small pinch at the corner of her mouth that gave away of how much agony she was in as her final hours painstakingly ticked by.  

That small gesture became his last memory of her.

Suddenly, all of the emotions that he had bottled up over the years burst through the flood gates; every spark of regret, every flicker of grief and every ounce of self-loathing over-riding his senses in a tidal wave. His flushed cheeks from earlier were burning and red, hot trails of colourless liquid trickling down them. A few odd squeaks crawled out of his throat, his narrow lips shaking and his breathing jerking with shuddering movements of his chest. He was barely aware of two strong arms coiling around his trembling frame as he openly sobbed, the tightly packed away heartache and vulnerability that had grew like a seed in the gaping hole in his chest.

Jack cradled him against his broad chest, rocking him gently and shushing him with his nose buried in the smaller distressed males wild brunette locks, “It’s alright…Nothing is wrong, everything will be alright…I’m going to make sure of it…”

Mike snuffled into the long sleeved dark blue clad chest in front of him, soaking it with his hot salty tears and darkening the cotton fabric. Moisture clung to his eyelashes and he blearily blinked them away. He slowly tilted his head up, his watery light green eyes red rimmed and the skin on his face blotchy. Looking into the ebony haired males eyes he hiccupped slightly, his throat feeling looser than it did originally and he noticed how their faces were inches apart. Jack’s lips still held that small awkward caring smile that was completely different from his cheeky smirk and yet Mike had learned to love both of them just the same.

Jack gave a small cough and breathed amusingly through his nose, “You know, when I proposed a second date…I didn’t have this in mind.”

Mike closed his red rimmed eyes and laughed breathlessly with a small blush (he hoped that the other couldn’t see it under the tears) while whacking him slightly in the arm. He tucked his head in the crook of the taller males neck, sniffling with a small genuine smile curved on his face, “Shut up you Arsehole.”

Jacks hand that had been placed on him crept down to his back and rubbed along his sides, tickling him before emitting a mock gasp of hurt, “Mikey! How you wound me! I thought I had _at least_ earned the name of Sir Douche by now.”

He snorted, “Douche is already one of your nicknames remember? And the Sir? You aren’t gentleman-y enough for that title.”

“Oh?” An ebony eyebrow raised itself in question and a wide smirk slowly grew on his pale features, “Wanna bet?”

Mike open his mouth to question what on _Earth_ Jack was talking about before a lanky figure pounced on him and tipped him so that he was laying down on the comfortable colourful sheets (carefully so that he didn’t knock any of the unprotected wounds on his back or on the rest of his body that he had gathered from the night before). Jack followed on with his attack by tickling his way down Mike’s body, skimming over most of the areas that were covered in the crimson speckled gauze and finding his way to most of darker skinned male’s ticklish spots. Mike exploded into giggles and squirmed underneath his hands in a weak attempt to get away from the slender digits probing his sides. His head felt light and there was a warm feeling in his chest that he hadn’t experienced in a while. He felt happy.

“H-how isss thi-s sup _posed t_ -to show me ho-ow much of a gen- _tle_ man youuu ar-e?!”He just about managed to stutter out the sentence in between fits of laughter, his words wobbling.

Jack laughed along with him from his place perched on Mike’s stomach, “It doesn’t! I just have to tickle you until you surrender!”

He carried on until eventually he reached the place under Mike’s armpit and the male underneath him started to wheeze out his submission, “Okay! Please! Ju-st st-stop! I-I giv- you win!”

Jack rolled onto the bed next to him and grinned widely in triumph, “That’s what I thought!”

They laid there for a while in silence, their heavy breathing the only thing that could be heard as they calmed down. Mike felt his eyelids slowly become heavy and drift closed over his green eyes, a yawn escaping out of his stretched mouth.

“Tired?”

He only hummed sleepily in answer, burrowing deeper into the fluffy blue pillow that was underneath him and slowing his panting breath. Mike felt Jack move slightly, pulling the covers over both of them and sliding closer so that he was leaning slightly on his shoulder, a solid hand wrapped around his waist.

“Does this hurt? Is this alright?” It was whispered close to his ear, hot breath ghosting over his flesh making small bumps grow on his skin.

“I’m fine.” He mumbled sleepily.

“It must be the medication from earlier.”

A hum was the only answer he could give him, it had been a while since he had a decent night’s sleep, staying up late worrying over bills took its toll on his body, coupled with the soft mattress that promised a comfortable night’s sleep and the warm body wrapped around him, he knew it wouldn’t be long before he drifted off. He shifted his legs to get in a position that he liked and he snapped open his eyes, a scowl settling over his features. Titling his head slightly to the man lying next to him he gave him a hard stare.

“Jack,” He called, his voice deep and threatening, “In the next few seconds you better explain to me why I don’t have any trousers on because I will murder you. _Slowly_.”           


	15. Quince

Clutching one of the many soft colourful blankets in a knuckle white grip around his bare lower half, Mike pin pointed his harsh narrowed light green glare at the taller giggling male on the other side of the bed, darkened features flushing a bright crimson. His earlier drowsiness had evaporated, the fatigue no longer clouding over his exhausted mind in a thick unforgiving fog, however that didn’t stop the rather large black bags that hung heavily underneath his sockets that had gradually grown with his constant interruption of sleep over the last few weeks. The joints in his weary body ached dully and he could feel the intricate webbing of his nerves twinge every time he made a move that was to abrupt or agile for his limbs to cope. Sighing heavily through his nose, his nostrils flared slightly from the force, and he grit his teeth (inwardly wincing when his jaw once again gave a sickly crack as he moved) as he continued to watch his ebony haired friend (?) with a bubbling feeling that had leaked into his red tinted features, the irritation clear in his expression.

Jack had wrapped his long lanky arms around his own sides, his broad chest heaving as he gasped for breath, his cheeks giving off a happy glow of light pink and tiny awkward high pitched squeaks erupted from his pale lips as he bit down into the soft flesh in an attempt to stop himself from laughing any louder at Mikes weak threat to deal with the situation. Mike picked up the pillow that he had been lying on and swiftly (as much as he hated to do it, the sensation that had shot down his arm felt like it was damn near ripped out of its socket brought it down to the giggling males face to smash it into him.

“God damnit! Stop laughing and tell me!” He huffed, crimson cheeks expanding and puffing out as his lips twisted into a scowl.

“I’m sorry! R-really, I am, it’s just that you had only just noticed and your face was practically a tomato!” He was trembling, clutching his stomach as his speech became an odd shrill whisper.

Mike blinked and his blushing face turned into a bright beet-root shade of red, cheeks burning hot in embarrassment, “Oh shut up!”

Jack’s breath came out as pants and a smirk crawled onto his pale face as he came back down from his gleeful high, “You want me to shut up? But I thought that you wanted to know why you’re nearly naked in my bed.” He finished off his teasing speech with a playful flirty wink and his signature smirk widened as he watched the other males nervous and flustered movements.

The brunette gave a light smack to the others arm, “Please. Just…Just no. Stop.”

“Fine. But if you really wanted to know, it was because I had to take them off to wrap your injuries and it would have been uncomfortable anyway if you were to sleep in jeans.”

Mike clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and squinted down at him, “Couldn’t you just give me one of your spare pyjamas to wear?”

The taller of the two leaned himself up on his elbows from his laying down position and gave him a look of mild disbelief, “Are you kidding me? With our different weights and heights, the smallest trousers that I could give you would fall down as soon as stood up.”

Mike grunted, tugging at his messy bed head and curling the chocolate strands around his fingertips. He was tired, _so_ tired but his mind was wide awake, alert with all of the different emotions that he had faced in the last hour and calculating thoughts that he couldn’t help but think about. Slowly, he slipped down to lie on the soft plush mattress, curled up on his side with the yellow dotted blanket draped around his lower half, staring up at Jack’s prone figure. A silence washed over them, it wasn’t awkward in the least, it was compatible and almost thoughtful. Only the quiet whispers of their breathing breached the hush calmness that had settled in the room as they gazed at each other.    

“Tell me something.” He finally whispered in the stillness of the room.

Jack quirked a single ebony eyebrow in question, “Like what?”

He shrugged, jerking up a slim shoulder and he placed a hand under his cheek to cushion his head, “Anything; a story from your childhood, your family, your favourite video game, just…Something. I feel like you know almost everything about me while I hardly know anything about you.”

It was quiet for a long while, Jack had shuffled slightly so that he faced the ceiling and he hummed under his breath as he thought.

“I had a bigger brother when I was growing up and we weren’t necessarily close, they only thing that we had in common really was sport. He was one of those dudes you see walking around the nearby town with a gang of hoodies and purposely stir up shit in school while I was just a gaming nerd. But he was my brother, **_my big brother,_** I will only have one of those and I wouldn’t switch him for anyone. ‘

‘One night he went out with a couple of his friends late at night and my parents had gone out to celebrate an anniversary, leaving me home alone. At about two in the morning a knock at the door awoke me and when I opened the door a male police officer was there. He asked me “Is this the home of the Reece residence?” and when I confirmed it he told me that they had found a body on a nearby train track. It turned out that Dale and his friends got blind drunk- he…He got-.”

His brilliant blue eyes were misted over and his bottom lip was trembling. The sight made a new whole rip through Mike’s chest and he took one of Jack’s pale bony hands in his for comfort, wrapping his warm fingers around his narrow palm, lightly stroking his soft skin.

“…He got ran over by the train, didn’t even see it coming apparently,” A thin smile was stretched across his pale face, dripping with misery, “When my parents got back, I told them, we were all distraught. We fell into a depression and went through therapy to help us with our loss. The therapists was nice though, helped us out with our problems and listened to us when we needed to vent. He had a weird name, Makai was it? I think that was right… It fit his weird personality to be honest, but he had a loving family, a wife that was just as strange as he was and twins (come to think of it one of those had a…Unique name also). That family was brilliant nevertheless, **_intelligent_** , and they’re the reason I am still alive today.”

He gave a soft smile, tears still threatening to spill over and squeezed the hand Mike was holding as a silent acknowledgement of the comfort that he was trying to give him. Mike smiled back and curled up tighter, this time closer to the other male, a light pink dusting his cheeks. A hand ran through his hair, gliding through the thick tangled strands and Mike closed his eyes slowly.

However, just before he could let his body fully relax, to let his sore muscles rest and to bring back a little bit of sanity into his fatigued slow mind, a sudden thought popped up into his mind that made him jolt unexpectedly. His bright green eyes snapped open and settled on Jack’s surprised face.

“How am I alive?”

He sat up, his confused and rattled mind calculating on how he even lived to be in that moment. The animatronic behind the curtain was pursuing him, along with the three others that were slowly making their way towards him, and he had blacked out under the fog of all of the stress that the job brought. _How had he made it out?_ Jack only comes to the Pizzeria in the morning to open up, and that was where he probably found him in a crumpled heap on the floor, bleeding out. _What happened? Was he dead after all? Was this just a weird afterlife heaven that he had thought of for himself?_ Mike mentally slapped himself, **_don’t be ridiculous_** , there had to be something else, something deeper, something that he wasn’t aware of yet, something linked to him.    

 


End file.
